The Rings of Divinity
by DLG
Summary: SG-1 are co-erced into fulfiling an ancient prophecy; as usual, nothing goes as planned...


1 The Rings of Divinity  
  
1.1 By Debbie Louise Gough  
  
  
  
Prologue:  
  
"Our people built a weapon many years ago; and with it, keys that they disguised as rings. When Ares sent his Lordlings through the Stargate, they fled with the rings and hid them. They died before they could reveal the rings whereabouts. You and your people have been prophesised to find them and destroy Ares' legacy."  
  
Father Darner in The Rings of Divinity.  
  
  
  
Ka-thunk. Ka-thunk.  
  
The sky was blood red, the blazing orange sun sinking behind a neat row of suburban houses. Dark purple-pink clouds, seeming to glow as the dying rays of the sun caught them, drifted across the sky, and if one peered closely, then they would see a shell-pink small moon, and a back-drop of pale lemon- white stars as the crimson sky darkened to a velvety black instead. The air itself was thick with white, fat snowflakes that swirled and danced as the cold drafts of air caught them. The sidewalks and the streets were peppered with streetlamps, like tiny yellow Chinese lanterns on Christmas Eve.  
  
Ka-thunk. Ka-thunk.  
  
Doctor Daniel Jackson gave a heavy sigh as he reached over and twisted the key, the car engine spluttering, and then dying at his touch. The windscreen wipers froze, halfway across the windscreen, snow splattering them. Next to him was a small bundle of packages, wrapped neatly in gold, silver, or shiny blue paper, tags proclaiming the recipients' names; Sam, Jack, Teal'c, Janet and Cassandra.  
  
Running his gloved hands through his short brown hair, Daniel flashed his reflection a half-smile, his cheeks dimpling, and gathered up the bundle of presents under one arm, pushing open the door with his free hand.  
  
" Jesus!"  
  
His cry of surprise was drowned out as a draft of air pushed against the door, very nearly trapping his ankle, and sending a chill up his body. Snow bit at his skin, and Daniel forced the door open again, yanking up his soft grey flannel scarf viciously, so that it covered his icy cold neck, jaw, mouth and the rounded tip of his nose. Snow stuck to his hair, melting on contact, as Daniel fumbled with the keys, pressing a small black button- the sidelights flashed momentarily, then dimmed as the car locked- and dashed up the icy path to the two-storey house. Soft yellow light from the living room intermingled with human-shaped shadows, and a chorus of voices- one blaring out from the television or radio, one young and feminine- Cassandra- the other astonishingly deep- Teal'c, sung a Christmas rock song that Daniel could very vaguely remember his parents- his real ones, Melbourne and Claire Jackson- dancing to on his fifth Christmas in Egypt.  
  
" Hello? Janet! Cassandra!" The snow muffling his voice, Daniel hammered at the wooden door until his knuckles began to throb, hopping from foot to the other in an attempt to ward off the cold. A shadow moved behind the door, and Jackson could hear the soft murmurings of a person swearing as they tried to jostle a hotplate unsuccessfully, then;  
  
" Daniel! You made it!"  
  
Gratefully, Daniel darted into the warmly lit hallway, shivering, and shot Janet Fraiser a friendly smile. Behind Janet was Colonel Jonathon O'Neill- best known as Jack- balancing a dish of pretzels and a bottle of chilled red wine. He raised the bottle of wine in greeting as he caught site of Daniel.  
  
In the living room a karaoke machine had been set up next to the Christmas tree- a tall green monster draped with pink popcorn chains and flashing multicoloured lights. Instead of the traditional angel, or star, a star- shaped photograph of SG-1, General Hammond and Janet behind them, and Cassandra and her dog kneeling in front sat atop the tree. Music belted from the karaoke screen, and their faces screwed up in concentration, Teal'c and Cassandra belted out, " Oh, I wish it could be Christmas every day…"  
  
Daniel winced; Teal'c, despite his deep, bass voice, was not a natural singer.  
  
Dumping his pile of presents beneath the tree, Jackson crossed the room, to where Sam was curled up in a corner of the sofa asleep, an Afghan blanket thrown across her lap, Cassandra's dog, Jack, curled up on next to her.  
  
Pulling off his gloves and blowing the tips of his reddened fingers, Daniel sank down carefully onto the soft, plush seat, stroking Jack the Dog's silky golden-brown fur lightly.  
  
As it was Christmas, Hammond had granted SG-1 and Doctor Fraiser two days of leave on the condition that on Christmas morning (something that both Hammond and O'Neill thought unnecessarily cruel) the team set out to P87- 435. All other teams were either off world, visiting their families, or lying in the Infirmary because of a variant of the 'flu brought back to Earth by accident. As Fraiser was on leave, Doctor Warner had returned to the SGC for a short while to look after them until they got back.  
  
Sam had only been released from the Infirmary that morning and Daniel the night before- for some rather cruel, bizarre reason, O'Neill hadn't caught the 'flu- a fact he had mercilessly teased them about when they were feverish and hacking up phlegm, or worse, warbling (it was an insult to music to call the noise that sixteen feverish, congested civilians and marines or airmen- or women should the case be- had made, singing) raunchy Abydan folk songs that Daniel, in his fever, had stupidly taught them. Apparently, if Jack were to be believed, the Colonel had managed to photograph Daniel's naked, pale butt when he had lain (just like Sam and fifteen other soldiers) unconscious and half-delirious, and was threatening to blow it up and give it to the nurses as compensation for SG-1's appalling behaviour whenever they were in the Infirmary.  
  
His chest tightened, his nose itching and his eyes watering, and Daniel dug frantically in the back pocket to his dark blue jeans for a tissue, as he began to sneeze explosively.  
  
He caught the second sneeze just in time, covering his nose with a handkerchief, doubling over, eyes squeezed shut; next to him, Sam jerked awake, her eyes bloodshot and her jaw popping impressively as she yawned loudly. In the corner, by the tree, Cassandra and Teal'c finally stopped singing- thank God, Daniel thought with a wry smile- and by the door that led to the kitchen, O'Neill and Janet appeared; Jack carrying several empty wine glasses and the bottle of wine, and Janet the bowl of pretzels he had carried earlier.  
  
" The turkey's in the oven," Janet explained when Daniel innocently arched an eyebrow at her. She glared suspiciously at Daniel's handkerchief and the two scientist's red eyes, and added in a dubious tone, " And both your medicine is in the bottom cabinet."  
  
Jack sunk down next to Daniel as Carter straightened, making room for the two, Janet taking the armchair next to them, and Cassandra and Teal'c settling down on a beige fur rug- Teal'c sitting cross-legged, Cassandra stretching out so that she rested on her hip, one arm propping her chin up, long brown hair brushing against the rug. For a brief moment, Daniel felt his chest tighten again- not in expectation of a sneeze, but from pride of finally having a family- of sorts- to share Christmas Eve with. They sat like that for several minutes, in the awkward silence that can only come from a family trying to recreate a Hallmark Moment, with Daniel awkwardly stroking Cassandra's dog, before Cassandra finally pushed herself off from the rug, smiling hopefully.  
  
" Does anyone want to play cards?" she asked, heading over to a small Mahogany cabinet, her long hair cascading over her shoulders like water. O'Neill's eyes gleamed, and he reached for his wallet-  
  
" Colonel O'Neill, don't you dare teach my daughter how to gamble!"  
  
The gleam dulled somewhat, and Jack shoved his wallet back into the front- pocket of his jeans, shooting dark looks at Janet. Hiding a grin, Cassandra shuffled the cards- a special mock gold leafed set- and began to deal seven cards to every person in the room.  
  
" What game are we playing?" Sam asked idly as she rifled through the set given to her by the young alien.  
  
" Bridge," Cassandra promptly answered. O'Neill looked disappointed.  
  
*  
  
An hour later, the turkey was ready, and Daniel, Janet, Jack and Sam laid down their cards in defeat. They had played five games of Bridge- five games that had been won by Cassandra and Teal'c equally.  
  
" There, there," Fraiser commented silkily to Jack as he shot Teal'c a suspicious look, " You can't win all of the games Colonel." She disappeared into the kitchen, slipping on a thick, heavy oven glove, simultaneously grabbing six china plates. Cassandra followed reluctantly at her call, and Jack could see the teenager reaching into a cabinet for wine glasses. The bowl of pretzels lay untouched by his ankles.  
  
Yes, but I could at least win one, he thought resignedly.  
  
He glanced over to Jackson, a faint smile curving his lips. Daniel looked refreshed- a faint tan colouring his skin from Abydos- the archaeologist had gone to visit Kasuf and Skaara for a few days before their leave had started- and as it were, it were mid-Summer on Abydos, and the young man had caught the sun. Daniel had visited Sha're's grave when he had been away, and had laid down a rare scarlet Abydan flower down in the sand, softly whispering prayers to the Gods to look after Sha're. With her son now safely living with Oma Desala- Mother Nature- Daniel only had SG-1, Kasuf and Skaara as his family. As the rich, warm smell of roast turkey and gravy floated into the large room, a smile lit Jackson's face, and his cheeks dimpled. Jack smiled to himself- true, The Powers That Be had never looked upon Jackson kindly, but for the moment, he was okay. There were no insidious whispers in the night from the Sandman, coming to claim a nightmare- and that haunted look in his eyes was fading away. Daniel was just fine.  
  
O'Neill's eyes danced from Jackson, to Carter. She had moved from the couch- albeit sluggishly- and now sat slumped in a most unladylike fashion on a wooden wicker chair, at the table. A plate had been put in front of her, and she was listlessly running a finger over the rim of her wine glass, listening to the haunting sound it produced. Now there was the look of someone who was very clearly not-fine. Her eyes were red-rimmed from the days she had spent in the Infirmary, and were a haunted grey-blue. Only just recently, Carter had lost Martouf. More than that; she had had to kill Martouf. Like Daniel, she had no true family to spend Christmas with either- although for a different reason. Whereas Daniel's parents had been killed when he was eight, Carter's father was still very much alive- albeit, living several billion miles away, forever walking the fine line between life and death, with the Tok'ra. Her mother had been killed in a car crash when she was just fourteen, and her brother, Mark, had had very little to do with her since she had joined the Airforce- although Carter had mentioned something about a family reunion during the New Year.  
  
But Carter will be fine too, Jack thought reflectively, because she has Fraiser and Mini-Fraiser. And me, and Daniel and Teal'c.  
  
As if sensing his concerned gaze, Carter twisted in her seat, and flashed a dimpled smile at him, raising her empty glass. Jack got to his feet, and made his way to the table, smiling when his namesake, Jack the Dog, followed him faithfully, stumbling over his short legs.  
  
Finally came the last member of SG-1; Teal'c.  
  
Despite what half the SGC thought, this was in actuality Teal'c's first Christmas on Earth. On his first year with the SGC, he had returned to the Land of Light to visit his family, leaving Daniel, Sam and Jack on their lonesome. The second year had been spent in a three-week coma, with him, Carter and Jackson stranded on Hathor's home-world. The third Christmas had come and gone unnoticed- it was hard to celebrate Christmas when your best friend had just lost his wife and only 'son'. And also despite what the SGC thought, Teal'c was not some cold, inanimate rock who felt no pain or fear or sorrow. Even if his face revealed nothing- not even a glimmer of pain or a twitch of agony- the Jaffa often felt pain. Just recently ( and just like Carter had lost Martouf to the Goa'uld, or Daniel had lost Sha're to the Goa'uld) Teal'c had lost his lover Shaunac to the Goa'uld. Worse still, he had had to greet the murderer as if he were an old friend.  
  
But like Carter had the Fraiser's and SG-1, Teal'c had the entire SGC.  
  
Hell, Jack thought with a sentimental smile at the Jaffa as the Former First Prime spooned a load of Brussel Sprouts (much to Janet's delight and Carter, Cassandra's and Jackson's horror) onto his plate, we all do. The SGC doesn't leave men- or women- behind, and we sure as hell don't leave them to the Nightmare-Demons.  
  
" A toast," Janet suddenly said, breaking his reverie. Blinking, Jack half- raised his wine-glass, filled with ruby-red wine, and arched an eyebrow expectantly at the tiny Chief-Medical-Officer. " A toast to the SGC, to SG- 1 and to family." Her doe brown eyes twinkled with mischief, and she added with a grin, " And to Colonel O'Neill's and Doctor Jackson's continued health. Long may it hold."  
  
Cassandra, Carter and Janet broke off into peals of wicked laughter, Teal'c wearing an expression dangerously close to a smirk as both Jack and Daniel spluttered. Still laughing, the three women raised their glasses, and clinked them against the men's three raised glasses- the sound echoed around the room like a bell tolling, and red wine, as crimson as blood, spilled, dripping onto the white tablecloth, staining it. For a moment, SG- 1 shuddered.  
  
And then, as Cassandra reached over to cut the turkey with a kitchen knife, and Janet set her glass back onto the table, frantically dabbing at the stain with a tissue, they relaxed back into festive grins, spooning potatoes onto plates.  
  
Outside the snow fell, covering Carter's motorcycle, and the icy winter winds hammered and yowled at the door, rocking Daniel's car and Jack's jeep, yellow light from Fraiser's house spilling onto the sidewalk- the only light in a place of darkness. The first rays of Christmas Day, creeping over the snow-covered road, wouldn't arrive for several hours- but when it did, SG-1 wouldn't be there to see it.  
  
  
  
P0X-4947:  
  
There was no hint of snow or icy, biting winds on P0X-4947- not even a trace of the winter that plagued Earth. Instead, there were two suns- one small, feeble shell pink newly born star- newly born in the sense that it was only a few million years old- and a far larger vivid orange-gold star that dominated the green-blue sky. The air was balmy and warm, butterflies glittering as they swarmed in droves, dancing in the bright light, over the Stargate and the warm olive green grass. Just in front of the Stargate was a small metal box-like vehicle- on Earth, it was often titled a MALP.  
  
To the left of the gigantic metal ring, was a turquoise ocean, clear blue- green waves lapping gently at a pure white stretch of sand, sea gulls or P0X-4947's variety of them- bobbing gently on them. To the right, lay a city, glittering like the butterflies in the intense glare of the sun. The buildings were painted white, and dotted in between them were bowing palm trees and weeping willows, brightly coloured flora decorating it. In the centre of the city, barely visible from the Stargate, was a pearly dome.  
  
The Stargate suddenly activated and began to spin, grinding and grating as it did so, its' noise breaking the balmy silence of the surrounding area- startled, the butterflies took off, their wings making an odd thrumming noise. Chevrons flickered and glowed as they locked into place, and a surge of white-blue light flickered and solidified into a blue, glimmering, sparkling wave that jettisoned forward and settled back into a wall.  
  
There was a long pause, and then the liquid-wall rippled as a lean, well- muscled man with white-grey hair marched from it, his face grim. His eyes were dark and dull, as he automatically spun on his heel, his gun resting at his hip, waiting for his companions. There was a moment's pause, and then two more ripples followed; this time revealing a young man with short brown hair and an equally young woman with short blonde hair pushed up into a boonie. Following them was a large dark-coloured man with bulging muscles. The grey-haired man smiled at them, his cheeks dimpling.  
  
" Carter, Daniel, Teal'c," he grinned, and then sniffed the air suspiciously. His eyes lit up and he twisted to the left, and froze. There was a pause, in which Carter and Daniel exchanged concerned glances, and then a loud whoop;  
  
" I love Hammond!"  
  
Daniel shifted his gaze to the left, and a cautious smile lit his features. Before him sparkled a clear blue ocean, little streaks of orange and yellow and silver indicating the various different species of fish that populated the waters. His smile widening, he shifted his gaze to the far right, just beyond the Stargate. There lay a large, glittering white city- dusty red sand acting as its' carpet, lush green palm trees decorating it. In the centre was a pearly gold dome, stirring a faint nauseating memory of Nem's underwater world. Immediately Daniel shook his head, as if he could shake away the memory of the utter loneliness and desperation he had felt when trapped under possible miles of water. As his vision cleared, someone else came into view;  
  
A young boy with a mop of brown-blonde hair stood, dressed in simple cream robes, stained with the red dust, by a small white building on the outskirts of the city. His young face was twisted in shock…shock and something else. As the young boy met Daniel's equally shocked stare, his dark eyes widened and the boy scampered off the rock he stood on and rushed into the small building. Jackson twisted back to the left to see Jack, Sam and Teal'c were by the ocean- Sam examining the shells and rock formation as if she were a geologist rather than a mere astrophysicist, Jack staring hungrily at the ocean and Teal'c standing impassively, watching their sixes. They hadn't seen the young boy; not yet.  
  
Daniel turned back to where the boy had been, and started as a gull flew overhead, squalling and shrieking. The boy was back- this time with a plump, overweight woman with frizzy white blonde hair and coffee brown eyes, staring at him and the rest of SG-1 in wide-eyed wonder.  
  
" Jack," Daniel called out to the Colonel uncomfortably, not daring to move in case the woman or the child had some kind of weapon. He glanced out of the corner of his eyes- Jack had his back to him, staring at a particularly large orange-red fish. "Jack!"  
  
Jack straightened and turned, visibly annoyed.  
  
" What?"  
  
Daniel pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and straightened.  
  
" We, uh, we have some company." He turned back to where the boy and his mother stood as Jack straightened cautiously, his grip on the rifle he carried, tightening. The fish that he had been examining darted away, and there was a hollow, sharp crack as Sam dropped the shell she had been about to pocket, her hands snaking cautiously to her rifle.  
  
" Think they're friendly?" Jack asked no-one in particular, although his eyes slid to Daniel, and then to Teal'c for answers. Daniel squinted against the harsh light of the sun, wishing he had remembered to pack his sunshades for this mission; in the harsh, icy temperatures and flurries of snow in Colorado, he had forgotten that just because the Tau'ri were experiencing Winter, didn't mean the rest of the Universe was. The city was simple- buildings white and glimmering, heat waves shimmering above them. The huge orange sun blazed behind the city, framing it, so that it almost seemed godly- ancient, almost. Raising his hand to the sun, Jackson suddenly frowned; barely visible in the glare of the two suns, was a black speck.  
  
" Well?" O'Neill's voice broke the silence like a hacksaw, and Daniel belatedly realised that he had been talking to Daniel when he had asked his question. A crimson flush coloured his cheeks and neck, and Daniel lowered his arm contritely, twisting back to SG-1. Sam had dug out her field glasses, and was squinting through them to the mother and son, still gaping in awe at the team, and beyond them to the city.  
  
" It's kind of hard to say Jack," Daniel finally muttered, " The human race in general are a bloodthirsty lot."  
  
In the corner of his eyes, Daniel could see Sam arch an eyebrow, and Daniel could almost hear the unasked question on the tip of hers and Jack's tongue: Feeling a little pessimistic Daniel?  
  
" No," he clarified. " From what little I've seen, they seem to be a simple people- and the UAV didn't reveal anything unusual." Still, his eyes slid uncomfortably back up to the black speck marring the sun. As if to contradict him, the young boy suddenly garbled something to his mother- though the distance made whatever he said impossible to hear, or possibly, translate. Her dark eyes widened, and she garbled something back, shooting SG-1 side-looks, as she pressed a hand to the small of his back, forcibly pushing him towards the city. Jack and Daniel exchanged a look.  
  
As the mother and child hurried back into the safety of the city, SG-1 relaxed somewhat, and Jack finally said;  
  
" Well, we were going to head out to Oz anyway." He tilted his head, squinting against the sun, and stared at the city, his lips quirking into a smile. " Let's see what the little green wizard has to offer."  
  
*  
  
1.1.1 The City of Ares  
  
The Aresians had once been a flourishing civilisation, populating the entire planet, Ares, living as one with nature. As a whole, they had been a peaceful race- the enormity of the planet, and the lush life it had to offer quelled any squabbles between villages. But they were not a perfect species; in the early years, when royalty and High Priests had still existed, just before technology had surpassed them, the Aresians worshipped a Goa'uld; Ares, the God of wrath, war and vengeance. They offered him what little Naquada the Poor People could mine, and then, in desperation, they offered their own children.  
  
How foolish we were, Father Amah Darner thought sadly as his pale blue eyes- an unusual colour in his people- tracked the outside wall to what had once been the city hall, but was now a sacred place of worship. The cream- coloured wall was marked with tiny hieroglyphics, telling the tale of his ancestors, and for the fifteen time that year, the Chieftain of the City had found himself standing outside the Hall, reading the warning the Old People had left for their descendants.  
  
Sending children to Ares had been a mistake; they had had an unusual gene in their genetic make-up- a gene that rejected the Goa'uld. Rather than destroying them, like so many other Goa'uld had done to so many different races, Ares had made a biological weapon that over the years, would change the bio-structure of the land they lived on. He had hoped the change would enforce evolution upon the people; in reality, it was slowly killing them, diseasing the land and the people. When the Aresians had realised their God's intentions they had tried to stop him; they had built a weapon of some kind to counter the one Ares had made, and then, in the guise of rings, they had made keys to control their weapon. Their intention had been to destroy Ares and his weapon on the night of the first full moon of the new year.  
  
Darner traced his fingers over the hieroglyphs, worn down over the millennia, and stained with red dust, and following the glyphs, he sidestepped to the right, continuing with the story.  
  
In the years to come, the people would be divided in what was the truth; whether there was a spy amongst them who had informed Ares of their misdeeds, or whether Ares himself was a true God, and had thus discovered for himself the weapon that they had made- but the one thing that the Aresians were agreed on was that on the night before the new moon, the Stargate had activated, and with the new wormhole, had come thousands upon thousands of warriors; the Lordlings- men who were waiting to become Jaffa, or worse, a host to a Goa'uld. And with the Lordlings had come a message from Ares himself; My hopes for this planet have been lost. From now on, the Lordlings shall rule over you, in my name, and any Aresian who attempts to leave Ares through the Stargate shall not only kill himself, but his entire planet.  
  
Ares had then ordered the Lordlings to kill the men who had built the weapon and destroy the keys that controlled it. And at that point, the Gods had looked upon the Aresians kindly, if only for a short while. A sudden, but violent storm- the result of Ares' weapon- had delayed the Lordlings from reaching the City, and had given them enough time to send four of their people- three men and one woman- to the far corners of their planet via the transport rings, to warn the other villages and to hide the rings. The three men and the woman had been killed shortly afterwards, taking the knowledge and secrets of where the rings had been hidden to their graves.  
  
Darner paused as he reached the end of the wall; the story ended there, and was followed by a three thousand year old prophecy.  
  
On the day that Ares had been killed, there had been a full day of sunshine and calm weather, and several of the Lordlings had died- although there was nothing unusual in this itself; many of them were old men when Ares died. But on that day had come a prophecy- a vision from a local soothsayer- that men- or women- from another world, would result in their salvation. They would find the rings, and destroy Ares's weapon, saving the Ares-  
  
" Amah Darner! Amah Darner!"  
  
Amah tore himself away from the story and the prophecy, glancing disapprovingly to his immediate left; a young boy with sandy blonde hair and coffee brown eyes that he vaguely recognised as Michtel Rodecker, was racing towards him, his eyes wide and scared. Shortly behind him, lifting the hem of her cream cotton dress, was Thessily Rodecker, his mother. Her plump face was twisted into a reproachful scowl as she caught up with the child, grasping him by the elbow, pulling him around to face her.  
  
" Such impertinence!" she snapped at him, her dark eyes blazing, " And to a Chieftain no less!"  
  
A faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips, Amah gently informed the boy; " It is respectful to refer to your elders as Father, Michtel."  
  
Bashfully, Michtel lowered his gaze, his tanned face flushing red.  
  
" Sorry Mama, sorry Father Darner."  
  
Amah grinned at the child, and lowered himself to the ground, placing his palms on quivering thighs, and with a paternal smile, ruffled Michtel's mop of blonde hair. Life had been hard on the Rodecker's- Thessily's mate, Thoas Rodecker, had died several years ago, leaving her to tend to five children- Michtel, Andras and Pesa, ( the boys) and the two girls, Adalee and Marta- by herself. Like their parents, all the children had a mop of sandy blonde hair and intelligent brown eyes.  
  
" Your mama and Grand-dam were just the same when they were children," Amah whispered into Michtel's ear, smiling mischievously up at the plump woman. Her hands rested on her hips, and she was shooting the Chieftain a dark, disapproving look. " What was it, then boy, that made you and your Mama run all the way from your house to find me?"  
  
Michtel's eyes lit up with excitement.  
  
" The Round Circle activated, Father, and four people came through- one with hair like mine," he fingered his sun-streaked hair, " One with eyes like yours," his fingers jabbed at Amah's pale blue eyes, " and another with skin as dark as the night, or the Aresians of the East."  
  
Amah stood abruptly, and looked long and hard at Thessily.  
  
" Are you sure it wasn't the Lordlings?" he asked in an uncertain voice- his legs were suddenly shaking, and his pale eyes kept on darting back to the prophecy engraved on he wall. Thessily nodded shortly, her white-blonde hair falling out of the string that held it together, and tumbling onto her broad shoulders- the woman had been making bread again to sell in the City.  
  
" Aye, Father," she said firmly, " There was a woman amongst them. Whoever they are, they're not the Lordlings."  
  
Her gaze followed his, and rested on the sacred prophecy, seeming to glow in the bright orange light. Amah's legs shook, and in a hoarse whisper, he softly said;  
  
" Then it's true. The prophecy." His face broke into a smile. " Thessily, fetch Father Ruez and the Guards- tell them to fetch these people. Tell them the Prophecy is about to come true, if you must."  
  
A smile creasing her sun-wrinkled face, Thessily darted away from Amah, leaving him alone with Michtel- Pesa and Andras were at work, as apprentices to a blacksmith, and Adalee and Marta were playing at their friend's hut.  
  
Michtel was looking up at Darner with a faint hopeful smile, and recognising the playful, coy smile as a face Amah had often put on in his own youth, the Chieftain reached into the sagging pockets of his robes, and pulled out a smooth glass multi-coloured ball.  
  
" Here," he said softly, pressing it into the youth's soft hand, " Go play with my son, Michtel. Who knows? You may win some more- Faras isn't very wise."  
  
*  
  
The walk to the city took, at the most, half-an hour, judging by Jack's digital watch, and how little the suns moved across the sky. Jack, as it turned out, had remembered to pack sun-glasses, and Daniel, holding his own glasses loosely in one hand, was squinting through them up at the sun, and the black speck marring it.  
  
Sam glanced back at him, a smile creasing her bright blue eyes, as she adjusted the brim of her boonie, and fell back a step, so that they were side by side.  
  
" What are you staring at?" she asked softly, although her eyebrows were arched expectantly, curiosity ghosting her face briefly.  
  
Swiping a tongue over dry, sunburnt lips, Daniel slipped off O'Neill's sun- glasses, pressing them into her palm, and rubbed the bridge of his nose as bright dots of colour- overexposure to the sun- danced dizzily before his eyes.  
  
" The sun," he muttered, jabbing a finger at the swollen, blazing ball of fire, "There's something in front of it. I was trying to work out what it was."  
  
With a shrug, Carter slipped the shades over her own eyes, tilting her head back to the sun. Tendrils of pale blonde hair brushed the nape of her neck, tickling the skin there. Her brow furrowed as she caught site of the dark spot that had been bothering Daniel. A distant memory of O'Neill's and Teal'c's mission report from Hanka, of how they had discovered Nirtti's Mother-ship near the black-hole, stirred in the back of Sam's mind, and she swallowed back the wave of unease.  
  
The Goa'uld aren't on every planet you visit, she reminded herself sternly. Treacherously, the small voice in the back of her mind sniped back; But the danger sure as hell is.  
  
She hadn't realised she had been staring- and quite intently too- until Daniel asked impatiently; " Well?"  
  
Sam shrugged and slipped off Jack's sunglasses, passing them back to the irritable Colonel- he and Teal'c had stopped to see why she and Daniel weren't moving.  
  
" I won't really know until it's night-time- we could always send a request back to General Hammond for a telescope of some kind…" Sam shrugged again, feeling weary and a little embarrassed that, this time at least, she didn't have any definite answers. " It could be a moon, I guess."  
  
Teal'c regarded her with a cocked eyebrow, his cartouche folded neatly in two.  
  
" Or a Goa'uld Mother-ship," he suggested. Jack and Daniel simultaneously grimaced, and Sam pulled a face.  
  
" Yes, it could be that too," she admitted reluctantly. They stared back up at the blemish, and O'Neill added unhappily, " If it's a Goa'uld ship, then mission be damned, we're going back home. No-one should have to face the Goa'uld on Christmas."  
  
They carried on walking- Daniel scratching his red nose occasionally, silently berating himself for not taking his medication before the trip- until, finally, they came upon the small white hut where Daniel had seen the young boy and his mother before. The child and the mother were no longer there, safe in the confines of the city.  
  
But, by no means, was the hut, or the scrawny little garden that surrounded it, empty.  
  
A squadron of men with golden-brown skin and a variety of hair colour- some were blonde, some redheaded, and others had jet-black hair- stood by it instead. Two young girls with pale blonde hair and dark eyes hid behind one of the men in the middle, scarlet flowers held tightly in their fists. The man wore heavy cream robes, and had greying dark hair and bright blue eyes.  
  
There's odd about them, Daniel thought with a heavy frown, as he and then the rest of SG-1 halted abruptly, Jack tightening his grip on his rifle, tilting it ever so slightly, so that the barrel was aimed at the middle man, Jackson pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, whilst Carter and Teal'c spread out to the left and right, respectively. In a terse voice, Jack said, " Daniel, you're up."  
  
His heart thumped once against his chest, as Daniel took several steps forward, lifting his hands- palms facing forward- in the air, in a classic gesture of surrender. The men followed his every move, with their dark eyes, but showed no move of reaching for their weapons.  
  
Inwardly, Daniel frowned. The men weren't holding any weapons- at all.  
  
" Hello," he said after a long pause, " I'm Daniel Jackson, and these people are Colonel Jack O'Neill, Major Sam Carter and Teal'c. We're peaceful explorers from Earth and mean you no har-"  
  
There was an explosion of movement within the group, as the two young girls suddenly broke free of the protection of the men, darting forward, clutching their flowers tightly, and flung themselves at Daniel, knocking him backwards. The younger of the two flung herself at Daniel's leg, too small to reach his waist, whilst her sister wrapped her arms around Daniel's middle.  
  
Too shocked to quite register that the young aliens were hugging him, and hugging him quite tightly- as if they never intended to let go- Daniel sunk to his knees, and tentatively stroked the younger child's back- the child was shaking with sobs, and hiccupping and trying to talk all at once.  
  
The elder of the two unwrapped herself from Daniel- her sister stayed- and flashed him a brilliant smile, before she flung herself at Jack. The Colonel's eyebrow's flew into his hairline, and trying to sound gruff (and failing miserably), he softly said, "Hey, hey, what's all this about? Daniel?"  
  
" I believe I can explain," the blue-eyed man suddenly said, sending reassuring smiles to Carter and Teal'c. " Welcome to the City of Ares. It has been a great many years since the Circle- the Stargate- last activated, and I- and many others- had begun to give up hope that you would ever arrive."  
  
" Sorry, did you just say that you had given up hope that we would ever arrive?" Sam repeated dumbly, her eyebrows knitted, lips narrowing as she frowned. " As in, it was already foretold?"  
  
The blue-eyed man's smile was beatific.  
  
" The Chosen Ones' arrival had been foretold of a great many years ago, Major Sam Carter," he said gravely, holding out a hand to pull the elder girl- she had disentangled herself from O'Neill seconds before- into a fatherly hug. " But come! We shall have a feast tonight in the city, in your honour."  
  
Almost reluctantly, Daniel, Jack, Sam and Teal'c followed the man past the white house- it smelled strongly of freshly made bread- and into the city. The young child who had hugged Daniel, still clung to his neck, and the archaeologist now cradled her awkwardly, unsure of what else to do. From his muffled questions, the team learned that the blue-eyed man was named Father Amah Darner- and he was the Chieftain of the entire village- and the two young girls were Adalee ( the eldest) and Marta ( the youngest). Still reeling from the surprise of discovering their arrival had already been foretold, SG-1 didn't even protest when Amah lightly pushed them into a large hut, telling them to rest their feet or talk to his son, Faras.  
  
Waiting until he was gone, little Marta following him shortly, Sam and Daniel sunk onto a wooden bench, massaging their sore calves.  
  
" What do you think he meant by 'Chosen Ones'?" Carter asked softly, bringing the heel of her hand to her neck, massaging the stiff muscles there. Daniel frowned.  
  
" I'm not really sure," he admitted- Jack and Teal'c were talking in hushed tones in the corner. " It could be harmless- but Amah said we'd learn the rest later on tonight at the feast."  
  
They lapsed into companionable silence, staring at the red dusty ground. Jack was clutching the flower Adalee had given him, admiring the vivid colour and the spicy scent it gave off.  
  
True to his word, Amah returned ten minutes later, smiling widely at his 'Chosen Ones'.  
  
" We are ready," he simply said.  
  
*  
  
Ten minutes later found them outside the pearly dome Daniel had noticed earlier on, flowers and glass marbles being thrust upon them by the local children as they sunk into cushioned seats by Amah. The native women and men stared openly at them in awe, whispering amongst themselves. Some pointed at Daniel and Sam's bright blue eyes- apparently an unusual colour on their planet- and others pointed at Teal'c's golden tattoo.  
  
After an eternity, two plump women- one the mother of the boy and the two girls they had seen earlier- appeared, jostling with several large dishes of roast meat and crimson sludge, lowering them to the table. Jackson sniffed his almost suspiciously, before he took a tentative bite, his eyes turned upwards, as he savoured the richly flavoured meat. Jack, Carter and Teal'c were watching him expectantly, like errant little children waiting to be given permission to eat:  
  
" It tastes good," he finally, truthfully said, swallowing the chunk of meat. " It doesn't taste like chicken, pork, turkey or beef, although it is kind of salty." He looked to his right, where Amah sat, watching him surreptitiously. The Chieftain dipped his meat into the crimson sludge, and then chewed at it enthusiastically, only pausing to drink some of the water provided.  
  
" I think the red stuff is some kind of dip," Daniel added for SG-1's benefit, and copied Darner's actions. The most obvious comparison that he could make about the sludge was that it was like Chinese Hoi Sin sauce, and he smiled in approval as he chewed.  
  
" So, Amah," Jackson asked when the Chieftain had finished chewing, " Why have we been called the Chosen Ones? What are we chosen for?"  
  
Amah lay down his cutlery and twisted in his seat to face the archaeologist and jabbed a finger at the setting sun. Absently, Daniel noted that it pointed at the black speck.  
  
" We are a dying race, Daniel Jackson," he said calmly, and his voice turned bitter, "The remnants of an experiment by the Goa'uld, Ares." Sam paused in her chewing, twisting in her seat, her eyes narrowing. " That black speck you know doubt noticed earlier, is his ship- protected by what he referred to as a 'force-field'. It is poisoning our planet- diseasing the land and the people." Jack had turned to stare now, as well, and his eyes were hardening, lips narrowing. Amah lowered his hand, and pointed at them, staring at each member of SG-1 in turn. " Ares died many years ago- but he left his legacy," the hand moved back up to jab at the black speck, " and his Lordlings. On the day that he died, a local soothsayer predicted that men and women from another world would arrive to save us. Years passed and our people began to die- we thought that either we had angered the Gods somehow, or that the soothsayer was wrong." Amah's face broke into a smile, his eyes creasing in the corners, twinkling. " But here you are."  
  
Daniel's forehead creased with a frown; prophecies, as a rule, weren't all that unusual: just three months ago, SG-3 had met a race that had roots in the Polynesians- they had prophesised that the team would save the son of the king- and the team had. The boy was suffering from scarlet fever, and SG-3 had brought him back to Earth, where Janet Fraiser had administrated the appropriate cure. Daniel, himself, had been the subject to a prophecy- Shyla had claimed her mother had prophesised his arrival. So, it wasn't so much the prophecy that bothered him- but the way that Amah had phrased it.  
  
" Just how do you mean that we'll save your planet?" he asked uneasily, suddenly aware of how everyone seated were watching SG-1 intently, like people watching animals in a zoo.  
  
" Our people built a weapon many years ago," Amah said easily, not seeming to notice Daniel's unease, " And with it, keys that they disguised as rings. When Ares sent his Lordlings through the Stargate, they fled with the rings and hid them. They died before they could reveal the rings whereabouts. You and your people have been prophesised to find them and destroy Ares' legacy." He looked like he was about to say something else, but was silenced as O'Neill held up one finger, frowning heavily. The Colonel leaned forward, on his elbows, and asked in a lilting voice; " You've mentioned these 'Lordlings' a couple of times. What are they?"  
  
It was Teal'c who answered him.  
  
" I have heard of this term before, O'Neill. Lordlings are men who are waiting to become Jaffa or Goa'uld- they are men who would not normally be chosen, or whose world has been recently captured by the Goa'uld. On Chulak, we call them Ha'rash'nei. He who waits."  
  
Jack's expression turned sour.  
  
" You mean there are people out there who want to have a snake in their gut or head?" His voice was tinged with disgust, and his dark eyes were narrowed dangerously. For a second, he winced, and added apologetically, " Sorry Teal'c."  
  
Teal'c merely bowed his head in acknowledgement of the apology.  
  
" Anyway," O'Neill continued, one hand creeping up his hand to scrub through his greying hair, " I don't know about us finding your rings for you-" he glanced briefly up at the black speck, a ray of gold-pink sunlight catching his face, "- but if we can just go back to our planet, we can get help for you. People who can cure these diseases, and destroy Ares' ship…"  
  
There was an explosion of voices- one female, one male- a cacophony of angry protests. Surprisingly, one was from Carter, who very rarely disagreed verbally with her Commanding Officer.  
  
" No sir, you can't!" she snapped at the same time as Amah cried out;  
  
" Impossible!"  
  
Jack turned sharply to glare at Sam, and in a low, annoyed voice, he asked; " And why the hell can't I, Carter?"  
  
Sam regarded the Colonel with a mixed expression- contriteness from realising she was toeing the line, and oddly enough, superiority. With one finger jabbing at the black dot in front of the sinking sun, she said firmly, " Two reasons sir. One- if we can see that ship from here then that means it's either pretty big, or it's pretty close to this planet- in which case, sending something up like a Mark 5 wouldn't work- we would risk contaminating the planet, or even worse, some kind of chain reaction. Two- the ship is protected by a force field. So anything we do send up- presuming that we find a way to do so- will just bounce off the field, and explode in empty space, and we would have wasted millions of the American taxpayer's money."  
  
Jack sighed heavily, and raked his hair almost angrily.  
  
" Fair point Carter." He twisted back to where Daniel and Amah sat, and added in a snarl, " And why is it 'impossible' for my team to go back, Father Darner?"  
  
In just as cold as voice as Carter had used, Amah leant forward and explained icily, "Do you not think that if it were that simple, Colonel O'Neill, that we would have left through the Stargate years ago? Part of Ares' legacy was to make sure we could never leave. Anyone who attempts to activate the Stargate from this planet sets off a mechanism built in the ship- it releases a poison that will kill everything on this planet within seconds."  
  
O'Neill blanched.  
  
" Okay, fair point there, too." He bit his lip, and gave a low snarl of frustration, "Damn, on Christmas Day too! Whoever I pissed off in my last life, I really, really hope it was worth it."  
  
As the sun set behind the large dome, the smaller one casting a strange pink glow over the land, Amah looked up suddenly, and around at the table. Daniel thought he saw a sliver of light glisten as the burly men and the plump women stood.  
  
" It is time," Amah whispered.  
  
" Time for what?" Daniel asked suspiciously, as he swiped his tongue over his lips nervously.  
  
Amah turned to face him, and Daniel swallowed convulsively as the sliver of light he had seen was revealed to be a long, curved knife. Through haunted eyes, Amah pressed the blade of the knife against Daniel's neck, digging it in enough to draw a thin rivulet of blood. O'Neill, Teal'c and Sam froze, their hands convulsively clenching, reaching for their guns.  
  
As if reading their minds, Amah said sadly, " He will be dead before you even have a chance to save him." Using his free hand, Amah grabbed a fistful of Daniel's thin tee-shirt, hauling him off of the chair, and held him close to his own thin, but wiry, frame. " Colonel, Doctor Jackson, I am not a bad man," he continued, speaking only to the two men- Sam and Teal'c hovered anxiously in the background, covering Jack's back, if only for the moment. " I am a desperate man though. My people are dying, and you are their last hope."  
  
Cringing as the knife scraped painfully against his skin, Jackson wheezed, " I don't understand- if you're so desperate, why aren't you out there, looking for the rings yourself, instead of bullying off-worlders- albeit prophesised off-worlders- into doing it for you?"  
  
The point of the knife bit into his skin sharply as Amah's arm jerked and Daniel bit back a grunt of pain.  
  
" Many have tried Doctor Jackson- and those who weren't killed by the Lordlings, were killed by the traps that hid the rings. Besides, we are not the prophesised ones."  
  
The pale pink sun sunk behind the dome, and in its' place was a silver moon. Agitated, Amah looked up, and then back at the rest of SG-1. As if to emphasise his earlier point, he grabbed a fistful of Daniel's hair, and yanked it back, exposing his pale, slender neck. Sam swallowed unhappily, and lowered her gun.  
  
" Well?" Amah asked desperately, " Will you help us or not?"  
  
A minute of silence passed- Jack was swallowing- his Adam's Apple bobbing- coffee brown eyes flitting from Daniel, to the knife, and back to Daniel again. Finally, reluctantly, he lowered his gun, and Teal'c followed suit.  
  
" Fine," he bitterly said, " We'll help you."  
  
A hesitant smile flickered across Amah's face, and abruptly, he turned, pushing Daniel ahead of him, leading SG-1 into the Dome. Daniel caught a glance at the wall before he was plunged into semi-darkness- the scripture looked like a derelict of Pahlavi- medieval Persian- although, without the help of the Archaeological and Linguistics Department, he couldn't be sure-  
  
Daniel was jerked rather unpleasantly back to reality as Amah suddenly halted, and pushed Jackson onto a small, light step made from sandstone. As Jack, Sam and Teal'c filed into the room, moving over to their own platforms just as- if not more- reluctantly as when they had entered the Dome, Daniel glanced down at his. It was a simple circle, a ring of blue- green light filtering down from above him. Engraved- stained by the red dust- into the surface of the ring, were some more Pahlavi hieroglyphs- probably instructions, Daniel thought optimistically.  
  
" I meant what I said before, Colonel O'Neill, Darner said softly, stepping lightly away from the four different rings, " I am not an evil person, but a desperate man. Your co-operation will not go unappreciated." He hesitated. " Good luck."  
  
Belatedly, Daniel realised that Darner hadn't so much as been moving away from them, as moving towards a small stone pedestal, where several gems glowed faintly. Darner pressed down on them; a faint hum filled the room, dust glittering in the blue-green light, and then there was a bright, white flash, a hooking sensation behind their navels as blood rushed to their ears….  
  
The hum silenced, the white light fading fast from the room, and Darner looked sadly at the four rings that led to the four corners of the planet: their Chosen One's were gone- SG-1 had vanished from sight.  
  
1.1.2 Part One: The Search for the Rings:  
  
" That was a foolish and brave thing of someone of such importance, such as yourself, Chosen One, to do. I expect we shall expect great things of you and your companions…"  
  
Amba to Sam in the Rings of Divinity  
  
  
  
The stone rings were unlike anything he had ever used; and in the past four years of being a member of the SGC, he had used a lot of strange alien devices- from the Stargate, to the Transport Rings. There was a white flash behind his eyes, the rush of blood- like a waterfall- to his ears, and something cold and icy gripped him- just behind the navel.  
  
By the time the white flash had dimmed to a glow, the ringing in his ears had faded, and he had crumpled to the ground, gasping and retching, Daniel Jackson was in another place entirely.  
  
His stomach roiling uncomfortably, Daniel forced himself to stand on shaky legs, blue eyes raking the landscape dazedly. Unlike the lush, tropical plains of the City of Ares, this place was…strange, to say the least. The sky had been a rich, velvety black-purple, and dotted with stars and the pale, silvery moon, when they had left. Now it was a warm pink-gold- the weak, pale wash of dawn- and the swollen orange sun that had been setting back in the city, was gently rising behind a steep, ragged and vicious looking mountain.  
  
His stomach and throat tightening as the first icy tendrils of fear reached out to him, Daniel spun around, the world looping briefly. His neck stung- warm, grainy air brushed against the scratches marring it, drying the blood on the skin. Behind him stretched a copper-yellow desert, the smooth, silky waves of sand only broken by steaming geysers.  
  
" Oh God," Daniel whispered as he spun around again- this time facing lolling, ragged mountains, and a colossal waterfall that could easily outmatch the Niagara Falls. Although the waterfall must have been miles away- the trees that surrounded it were barely visible- a green-black blur- Daniel could easily hear the drum of roaring water against rocks. Glances to either side of him revealed more geysers and mountains- and no Jack, Sam or Teal'c. He had assumed they would be with him- that they would search for the rings as a team. " I'm on the other side of the planet."  
  
And nowhere near a Stargate.  
  
Panic seemed to engulf Jackson, and bile rising up his throat, Daniel dashed back to the stone platform, his hand stretching out, as if by doing so, he would reach it quicker…  
  
There was an explosion of light, and a blur of sudden movement, pain stabbing at him. With a yell, Daniel was flung back through the air, the clouds racing above him. He landed roughly on his back, the back of his head slamming against a sharp rock. Stars raced and flashed before his eyes, pain spiking through his head, a strange echo in his ears- the world spinning in dizzy circles, Daniel pushed himself off from the dusty ground, one hand pressed against his temple. Liquid- sticky, warm and red- seeped through his fingers, trickling slowly down his forehead, over the slant of his cheekbone, and pooling in his collarbone.  
  
Daniel squeezed his eyes shut, biting back a groan of pain.  
  
" That was dumb," he muttered to himself, and silently added, Wasn't that dumb Jack? Not even here for a minute, and I get myself injured.  
  
When the stabs of pain had subsided, and the world had stopped spinning, Daniel opened his eyes, squinting and hissing as blood dripped into his eyes. The stone platform was several feet away now, a golden-red force field surrounding it, humming angrily. Angrily, Daniel thumped the ground with his fist, leaving a light indentation in the ground. There had been very few times when he had been separated from SG-1 on a mission- the only three times he could name was when he had been sent to an Alternate Reality by accident, and when Nem, and then later, Chaka had kidnapped him.  
  
And they, as a whole, were experiences he really didn't want to repeat.  
  
What would Jack be doing right now? If he were here, what would he be telling us to do? Daniel desperately thought, scrambling to his feet, brushing down his fatigues, and straightening his backpack. His pistol pressed against his thigh- a constant reminder of what little he had to defend himself against the rest of the alien world.  
  
" That's an easy question," he answered out loud- right now, he needed the comfort of a human voice, " He would be getting Sam to dress my head-wound, or getting me to sit down for a while. And then he would be getting Teal'c to scout the area."  
  
But Teal'c and Sam aren't here, an inner voice snidely said; you'll have to do it yourself.  
  
Which was just fine, Daniel stoutly thought back. Reaching up, he unbuckled the straps to his backpack it fell to the ground like a deadweight. The field kit, was thankfully, near the top, a canteen of fresh water and a packet of antihistamines just below it. The world spun once, and Daniel sunk to his knees- bruised and aching from their impromptu flight- in front of the bag.  
  
Feeling nauseous once more, Daniel snagged a length of the strips of bandaging, pressing a wad of cotton soaked in disinfectant against the gash. Pain flared, and tears stung his eyes, and determinedly, the archaeologist pressed harder. Awkwardly, he taped a strip of bandaging over the cotton pad, the fringe of his hair brushing the knuckles of his long, slender fingers. When he was done, Jackson reached with shaking fingers, for the canteen of water and the packet of antihistamines. He forced two of the small white pills using the water, and then dabbed at the blood staining his face, gazing resignedly around him. He only had a few nights' worth of MRE's in his backpack- and who knew how long it'd take to find the rings, or even get back?  
  
" I suppose I should go and scout for food, like the good little archaeologist," he muttered to the backpack, standing awkwardly. In the distance, a bird hooted, as if in agreement, and the waterfall roared on, oblivious to the rest of the world. With a sigh, Daniel shrugged his backpack back on, stumbling forward, and thought of Jack, Sam and Teal'c.  
  
*  
  
Jack O'Neill was pissed as hell- pissed that Amah had managed to trick him and the rest of his team so easily into complying with his orders, into searching for the damn rings for him. As a white flash began to build up behind his eyes, a low rumble- a hum- making the room vibrate and the dust glitter- and blood rushed to his ears, he turned his head to where Amah was standing- the Chieftain was staring at Daniel sadly- and he narrowed his eyes to glare at him.  
  
The sudden rush of air, colour and loss of weight surprised the Colonel- Amah and the darkness disappeared, to be replaced by blindingly bright light. It took Jack a few seconds to register that what had replaced was not that much better than the scene that had fled him; in fact, it was a hell lot worse.  
  
The rush of air and colour, and loss of weight, had nothing to do with the Aresian Transport System, and everything to do with the fact that O'Neill was falling. Below his feet was empty air, and several below that, what looked like a wild, twisting river and a grassy embankment. It was hard to exact; the world was a rushing blur.  
  
Jack's mouth went dry, and his heart thumped wildly with fear as his arms and legs flailed uselessly, trying to grab onto a handhold that didn't exist. His radio tore loose from his jacket and plummeted to the river, a twinkle of light heralding it had smashed against one of the vicious, jagged rocks.  
  
As he fell, yells and gasps of air being snatched cruelly away by the rush of air, Jack was reminded of something an Ex-Black Ops soldier had once said, just before he had pushed Jack out from the cockpit of an aeroplane with (what Jack was to discover later) a faulty parachute:  
  
" This is what it's all about- using your situation- no matter how bad, or how good it is- to your advantage. The enemy won't be looking for you in the skies- human beings don't have wings, else we'd have flown to heaven a very long time ago. The enemy won't even care if you're scared either; you're just another target to them, and the same goes for us."  
  
It had changed, Jack realised wildly, his brow creasing in anxiety, his mouth open in a soundless cry of fear or anger- he couldn't be sure. Sometime in the past few years, the Stargate Program had changed him. Made him more insubordinate, more caring…more alive. When so much shit was happening across the entire Universe, and people like Daniel who were just as traumatised- if not more- by life were standing up, ready to do something about it, your own problems paled, and you changed. There was not a man or woman who had joined the Program, who had not changed in some way. Makepeace, Maybourne, the Rogue Stargate team- all had once been good, mindless soldiers. All had been changed by the Stargate.  
  
Plunging towards the river- although a lake might have been a more accurate description- Jack wrinkled his nose in disgust. Maybourne hadn't so much as changed, as evolved into a bigger and more powerful bastard than he had been before- and somehow, O'Neill doubted he'd ever been goo-  
  
Pain suddenly flared across his chest and thighs as Jack finally hit the black-blue river, his clothes sagging, skin growing icy. The currents of the water- dark and vicious- snatched at him, tossing him to the bottom of the river- desperately, Jack clawed at the sandy bottom, his fingers momentarily closing around a rock. Then another current caught his flailing body, pushing him to the surface. Jack grimaced against the pain, and kicked his legs, forcing himself to the glittering, beautiful surface, to air…  
  
Had it not been the desperate need for air, Jack would have given a whoop of triumph, as he broke through the icy cold water, gasping and spluttering. He managed to snatch a gasp of air, and a glimpse of his new surroundings, before the currents latched playfully onto him, dragging him back down to the bottom. A memory stirred in his mind:  
  
" You have to wait it out. Struggling will only lose you precious air, which, when you're at the bottom of those white-waters, can be a bit of a bummer."  
  
That was right; it had been the year before he had left for the Airforce Academy- he'd been a kid at just thirteen- and his parents had taken him white-water rafting as a treat. The instructor had been a straggly, long- haired pre-hippy- but his grey eyes had been wise and dark with age-old memories of rafting. He had warned the teenager of the dangers of the white waters, and what to do if he ever had the misfortune of falling into them:  
  
" You wait them out, boy. Currents- especially white-water currents- don't flow forever- they lead into 'lakes'. Still water."  
  
So, I'll wait, Jack inwardly snarled, his lungs burning for oxygen.  
  
The water and the darkness and the pressure seemed to stretch on to eternity, but finally, the invisible hand that had been holding him down released him, and Jack kicked his leaden legs, forcing himself to the surface.  
  
Cool, blessed air greeted him, and he gulped it down happily, coughing up the water as he did so. His body felt bruised- raw almost- and his head throbbed as a sudden disturbing thought struck him. Where were Carter, Daniel and Teal'c? They should have been with him.  
  
What if they drowned?  
  
Instantly, his sombre eyes darted back up the white waters, staring at them beadily, as if by doing so, they would appear. The white-waters remained as savage as before, and just as empty and devoid of human life.  
  
His face tightening in the stirrings of raw anger, O'Neill back-pedalled, pressing against a grassy embankment, dragging himself up with torn and bruised hands. His legs too shaky to stand on, Jack settled with kneeling on all fours, coughing and retching. His back-pack was gone- torn to shreds in the waters- and his radio was smashed.  
  
When Jack finally looked up, his jaw dropped.  
  
" Well, shit," he blurted, blinking furiously. His hand balled, and went up to his eyes, wiping at them furiously- but the image remained. What Jack O'Neill had thought to be grassy embankments, when plunging at a break-neck speed towards the water, was actually a little island- one of two. The entire horizon consisted of ocean water, blurry white blocks- icebergs just off the horizon.  
  
That bastard, O'Neill thought furiously, he's sent me off to a world made of water.  
  
With that thought in mind, Jack crumpled to the ground, exhaustion claiming him at long last.  
  
*  
  
Daniel had been walking for several hours- that much he knew, because the smaller, pale pink sun had finally risen, shadowing it's larger, orange sister- and his head was throbbing viciously again. Several times already, he had been forced to sink to his knees, gripping his head and moaning in pain, because the world was spinning and blurring and doubling.  
  
" I think I have a concussion, Jack," he confessed to empty air, imagining for one moment that the Colonel was by his side, holding him up. " Unless, of course, the world is meant to double and spin."  
  
His feet and lower back were throbbing painfully- a dull consistent ache that made him grind his teeth together- and his face set in a grimace, Daniel stopped, and leaned against an elm tree, pressing the heel of his palm against his bandaged forehead. His legs quivered and folded, and Jackson slid down the tree, the bark digging into his bruised back. The walk had revealed a small, lukewarm lake, and a small, conifer woodland, with several berries that looked like they might be edible.  
  
" And I have no fucking idea what I'm looking for, or where to find it," he whispered, hot tears of frustration beginning to well in his eyes. " Some prophesised ones, we're turning out to be, huh guys?"  
  
The only answer Daniel received was the growling of his stomach. He hadn't eaten since the feast in the City of Ares- and even then it had only been a bite; Amah had shortly pressed a knife to his throat, and dragged him and coerced the rest of SG-1 into fulfilling his planet's prophecy. With a heavy, sad sigh, Jackson scrambled to his knees, and twisted to the left- he had stopped at the beginning of the small woodlands. Growing in small clumps were some of the edible looking berries he had noticed earlier on, when the sun had been high in the sky. His head throbbing cruelly, Daniel pinched the stem to a cluster of purple-red berries, wincing when an unnoticed thorn dug into his thumb, drawing a bead of blood. With a sharp twist, he pulled and the stem broke away. Cautiously, he plucked off one of the juicier looking fruits- a soft, vivid red berry- and popped it into his mouth, and chewed thoughtfully.  
  
Daniel very nearly spat it out again- instead of sweet, rich juices, the berry was sour and bitter. He forced himself to swallow it, and then the wave of bile that followed, and leant back against the tree, closing his heavy eyelids, shuddering and shivering at the taste. When he opened them again, sleep-dust had gathered in his eyes, his neck felt stiff, nose sore and hot, and the two suns were beginning to set. The sky was blood red with ghostly streaks of blue, yellow and lavender haunting heavy purple-grey clouds. Just behind the giant waterfall- Giant Falls, as Daniel had nicknamed it- the small silvery moon glowed, faint white-gold specks heralding stars.  
  
" God, I must have been more tired than I thought," Daniel slurred sleepily, pressing his hand against his mouth to stifle a yawn. Cold, he tugged at his flak jacket, hugging it to his body, shivering violently. Something hard pressed into right arm, digging into the skin almost painfully, and faintly irritated, he patted at his jacket. The object fell loose, clattering to the ground, and Daniel's seeking fingers curled around it, and he brought it up to examine it.  
  
" The radio," he muttered tiredly, and then, as a wild thought struck him, " The radio."  
  
All thoughts of drifting off into a dreamless sleep left him, and Jackson sat up straight, his eyes wide.  
  
" Shit, I can't believe I didn't think of this earlier," he berated himself, frantically pressing the stiff button and holding it to his mouth. He tried O'Neill's signal first, "Hello? Jack? Jack! It's me, Daniel. If you can hear me, please respond. Daniel Jackson out." With numb, shaking fingers, excitement building in the pit of his stomach, Daniel held the radio to his ear, pressed a second button, and listened. His shoulders slumped in bitter disappointment as a rush of static broke the silence of the night. He changed the signal to Sam instead, and with a hell lot less enthusiasm than a few seconds before, he tried, " Sam? It's me, Daniel. If you hear me…well, you know the drill." He held the radio to his ear, and listened- strangely enough, instead of static, he received stifling silence, broken only by the occasional hoot of a sparrow. His heart skipped in worry and excitement combined- Sam's radio worked- although why the young Major wasn't answering it remained a mystery. A few seconds later, he flung down the radio in frustration. Teal'c's radio, like O'Neill's, only responded with loud, bitty static. Blowing on cold, stiff fingers, Daniel looked up at the moon, and whispered sadly, " Where are you guys?"  
  
*  
  
It was mid-day in the corner of the planet that Samantha Carter had been sent to. As the white light dimmed and the loud hum had faded, she blinked, and on unsteady legs stumbled away from the stone circle. Her stomach churned for several seconds, and Sam closed her eyes, taking deep and steady breaths. It seemed to work; when she opened her eyes, the churning had settled to mild protests, and the world was no longer spinning.  
  
" Wow, I'd love to examine the mechanisms of that device," she said absently, " I might- with Amah's permission of course- be able to backwards engineer it." She waited several seconds for O'Neill's sarcastic response to diffuse the tension, and when he didn't answer, she lifted an eyebrow in surprise.  
  
The Colonel must be pissed off in a major way, she thought to herself. I hope he doesn't take it out on Daniel. Which reminds me…  
  
Whirling around, she began, " Daniel, do you want me to take a look at your neck? Amah's knife was pretty sha-"  
  
She trailed off abruptly, her grasp on her rifle slackening in her surprise. She was alone- as in no Colonel, no Daniel, and no Teal'c. Blinking, she moved around in a slow circle, bringing her rifle up sharply, as if the comforting action would reveal the whereabouts of the men of SG- 1.  
  
To her left were some grassy cliffs, and then beyond them, what looked like they might be ice caverns, and some chunks of ice. Icy cold mist rolled over the jewel green grass, like waves crashing against a stretch of sand, and unconsciously, Sam shivered, hugging her flak jacket to herself.  
  
It was cold here.  
  
To the right of her was a small rustic-looking village, tendrils of smoke reaching up to the paler, smaller sun. Silently, Sam wondered if the people who occupied the village were friendly, and if they were, whether they would help her search for the ring she was meant to be searching for.  
  
" I could search here for ten years," she mused to herself, her gaze moving past the village, to some lolling hills, and what looked like a hazy mountain. " And still not find anything. I don't even know where to start!"  
  
Frustration coloured her cheeks, and bitterly, she kicked at a nearby pebble- it shot across the grassy floor, and struck the base of the stone platform. There was an explosion of bright gold-green light that blinded Carter for a brief second, and then the pebble shot over her head, sailing cleanly through the air, before it landed and bounced across the misty floor, several feet away from the stone platform. Sam arched an eyebrow, her heart skipping.  
  
That pebble could have so easily have been her. She swallowed, her brow creasing. Surrounding the stone platform was a gold-green Goa'uld force field- or at least the Aresians version of one. It shimmered and thrummed angrily, stirring dust, making the ground tremble.  
  
Sam blinked.  
  
" Wait a minute," she frowned, lifting her chin- a habit that had started when she had been a child- in anxiety. A force field, no matter how powerful, could not make the ground tremble, or the sea of mist shift, like currents in the ocean. She lifted her worried gaze, her light blue eyes darting from side to side, and looked over to the lolling hills. They were, at the most, only a fifteen-minute's walk away.  
  
" Shit!" she blurted uncharacteristically.  
  
A force field may not have been able to make the earth tremble, but it was a guarantee that on any planet, anywhere, that a stampede could. And beginning to crest the tips of the gold-green hills, were a hoard of brown- black bull-like animals- and all were heading her way.  
  
Training kicked in, and throwing one last desperate look over her shoulder at the protected platform, Sam began to run. She ran forever, the bulls seemingly always a hairbreadth from her, until her legs began to tremble and ache, and her chest tightened, a stitch beginning to form in the side. Her radio flapped uselessly against her chest, her pistol- she carried two guns- slapping against her thigh, and then her hip. It hurt; a lot.  
  
But if you stop running now, it'll hurt a lot more, her mind promised her viciously. Gritting her teeth, Sam pumped her aching arms and legs, her issue boots slapping and skidding on the wet grass.  
  
She looked back over her shoulder- the enraged animals were dangerously close, and she could smell them- could smell their rancid, hot breath… with a cry, Sam threw herself to one side, into a bush, her body stinging and aching all over. There was a loud rumble that hurt her ears and made her teeth chatter as the bulls stormed past, and then blessed silence.  
  
Sam flopped back onto her back, swearing and gasping at the same time- at the time, it hadn't mattered, but she had thrown herself into a thorn bush. The thorns- as sharp as any knife- had torn her clothing and her skin, and her eyes, cheeks and chest stung. Blood trickled across her skin, forming intricate patterns, and reluctantly, Sam pushed herself from the cold, damp earth, rolling painfully onto her hip to unbuckle her pack.  
  
" Don't want to try that again," she breathlessly murmured to herself. For a moment, she imagined Daniel- or maybe the Colonel- gasping back in a pained voice;  
  
" Hell, we didn't want to try it in the first place!"  
  
Now that she had stopped running, her legs had frozen, and too stiff and bruised, refused to move. Wincing as pebbles and stray thorns dug into it, she leant heavily on her hip, and dragged herself over to the newly discarded bag, fumbling with the straps. As with all bags, the field kit was at the top, and gratefully, she prised open the lid, taking out the tube of antiseptic, and a small package of plasters. Gingerly, she rolled back onto her back, and smeared some of the cool cream onto the tips of her fingers, generously rubbing it into her wounds.  
  
" Ow, ow, ow," she hissed furiously, biting on her lower lip. It stung. " Stupid Carter, real stupid. Couldn't have aimed for a nice normal patch of grass, could you? No, you had to aim for the bitch of a briar patch. Ow!"  
  
One of the scratches across her cheek was particularly deep, and feeling stupid, she tore open the packaging to a particularly small plaster, and pressed it to the cheek, letting out a yowl when hot pain flared and shot up the side of her face.  
  
" Son of a bitch," she groused, tenderly smoothing out the crinkles in the plaster. A familiar ache tugged at her chest, and for the first time since she had arrived in the strange land, Sam allowed her face to screw up in misery, like when she had been a child.  
  
" Just a natural reaction," she furiously explained to empty air as the first tear slipped down her cheek, wiping away the blood there, " It's been a hell of a day, and I'm alone, tired, in pain and I have no idea at all of where to find the ring, and I'm scared." Another hot tear- Sam wrinkled her nose in shame, her face pinched- slid down her cheek, and in the harsh light of day she pulled herself into a sitting position and leant against a tree, her head drooping to rest on her shoulder. " It's just a natural reaction. It's okay to cry."  
  
The problem with that, she thought as sleep claimed her, was that it really wasn't. Big girls- especially big military girls- didn't cry.  
  
*  
  
Unlike his team-mates, Teal'c already knew that he would be quite alone when the light and the hum faded. He had known, in fact, that he would be alone the moment he had furiously stalked into the Dome, and had seen the inscriptions- invisible to the Tau'ri eye- engraved into the stone platforms. They had been what Daniel Jackson would have identified as 'Pahlavi', and what he would have identified as a derelict of Ancient Goa'uld.  
  
For each different platform had been a representation ( or so Teal'c had theorised) of the personality of each Chosen One. Daniel Jackson's had had the symbol of Spirit- a spiral with a straight line that went through the middle- Major Carter had had Fire- a crude drawing of a flame- O'Neill had had Ice- an empty triangle with two wiggly lines that represented water just above it. He had had Earth- three diagonal lines that crossed one another.  
  
So, perhaps it shouldn't have come as a surprise (although it most certainly did) that when the bright, harsh light had faded, all there was to greet him was inky darkness and a strange humid atmosphere.  
  
" Rush'nai," Teal'c muttered unhappily in his native language, his symbiote, 'Junior', stirring with unease. The platform began to hum aggressively, and hesitantly Teal'c took a tentative step away from the Transport System- just in time as a green-blue force field shot up around the platform, sparking when dust floated down, striking the surface. He stumbled over a clump of rocks, and landed heavily on his knees, tearing skin, a soft grunt of pain tearing itself from the back of his throat. His symbiote wriggled in his belly, and Teal'c ground his teeth together, clamping one hand over his belly- despite the tee-shirt that covered it- and forced himself to stand. The blue-green force field shed some- if pitiful- light on the area, allowing Teal'c to see his surroundings properly, for the first time since he had arrived.  
  
His golden tattoo creased in two at what he saw; he was in what appeared to be a cavern, although the silky darkness suggested that it was miles underneath the surface of the planet- a flickering of anxiety for his team- mates raced through the ex-First Prime. Strange trees- their trunks black and twisted, smelling strongly of decay- formed archways, although, without sunlight, they were feeble, their leaves black and drooping. Dark rocks that glittered under the light of the force field, surrounded the trees, lining the walls of the cavern.  
  
" I do believe that this place sustains human life-forms," Teal'c bluntly told his symbiote, frowning mightily up at the roof. Hard as it was to see in the oppressive darkness, the Jaffa could see the dust, that every now and again floated from the ceiling, causing the force field to spark and hiss, a strange sulphuric smell filling the cavern.  
  
Uneasily, Teal'c moved away from the platform, and towards the tunnel made by the tree-branches. A flash of inspiration struck the Jaffa and Teal'c lifted his radio and stared dubiously at it, glancing up at the ceiling. With a heavy sigh, he pressed a small button, and boomed into it, " O'Neill, it is I, Teal'c. Can you hear me?"  
  
His voice echoed around the cavern- dust rained down onto the force-field- but the only reply was static.  
  
Teal'c sighed; his symbiote stirred.  
  
" I believe that the place I reside in is blocking my signal," he bitterly informed Junior. The notion that he was unable to contact his team-mates 'spooked' or 'rattled' him, as Major Carter or Daniel Jackson would have said. It worried him that he was unable to check on Daniel Jackson's progress in particular- the young Tau'ri was not trained- although that did not mean that he wasn't a good soldier- as a soldier, like he, O'Neill and Major Carter were.  
  
But that does not mean that he is unable to cope alone, Teal'c silently reprimanded himself, Daniel Jackson, has in fact, coped admirably by himself many a time when SG-1 were not there.  
  
He thought back to when Daniel had been kidnapped by a Unas named Chaka- the Tau'ri archaeologist had managed to escape from the Unas- despite its' size and strength- and then later on, after Chaka had saved him from the Goa'uld larvae, he had befriended the Unas.  
  
It was quite likely, in fact, that they would all encounter danger in some way as they searched for their rings, and being alone in a dark, dank cavern meant that Teal'c was unable to help any of the members of SG-1.  
  
His face contorted in a mask of faint annoyance, Teal'c moved over to a tunnel made entirely by the cruel, curving, knife-like branches of the dying trees, and pushed an exceedingly jagged branch away from his belly, and flinched when it snapped back, slashing at his face. Blood dripped, painting a grotesque trail down his cheek, and then neck.  
  
" This is most loathsome, Junior," he rumbled when the symbiote hissed, and a faint smile ghosted his face as he imagined the look of shock that would have crossed O'Neill's, Daniel Jackson's and Major Carter's face at the use of the symbiote's nickname.  
  
Scowling in discomfort and pain, Teal'c pushed his way through the tunnel for what seemed like eternity- but looking at his digital watch, was revealed to be an hour, until, finally, he reached an end- a large cavern, with what looked like an underground tributary, and several flaming torches rested in man-made hooks. His tee-shirt was torn, chest marred with scratches.  
  
" It would appear I was correct in my assumption that this place supports human life," Teal'c smugly said to Junior. The symbiote stirred anxiously, and Teal'c became uncomfortably aware of his need of Kel'No'Reem. Using his staff weapon like a wooden staff, Teal'c lowered himself to the ground, crossing his legs, and then lay the weapon across his thighs. Eyeing the lake, and then the expanse of the cavern suspiciously, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes.  
  
All anxiety, all thoughts fled as blessed darkness, warmth and calm washed over his body like water, and vaguely, the Jaffa noted that his breathing had grown shallower, and the pain that had flared across his torn chest was finally diminishing.  
  
And then the image- a long forgotten memory- flashed across his mind, and Teal'c forgot about his injuries or the danger outside:  
  
" Sir, there's too many!"  
  
The air was heady with blood and death, the sky black with streaking Death Gliders. Crouched, back to back, were Captain Samantha Carter and Colonel Jack O'Neill, their faces streaked with blood- some their own, but predominantly, the blood of Jaffa- and theirs guns raised. Directly opposite them were Daniel Jackson and Teal'c- Teal'c's massive hand was clamped over Daniel's mouth to suppress the young man's little whimpers of pain- earlier on he had been struck on the thigh by a staff weapon- it was a superficial wound, but from the noises Daniel Jackson was making, painful nonetheless.  
  
" I know Carter, I know!" O'Neill had to yell to make himself be heard, and another flurry of bolts of fire rained down upon them, kicking up clods and clouds of dirt. Teal'c shot them an annoyed glare.  
  
" Captain Carter, O'Neill, if you do not desist in your speaking, then the Jaffa will most certainly find us." In a brief moment of lucidity, Daniel gave a muffled 'mph!' in his agreement. Their cheeks flushing shamefully, O'Neill and Carter fell silent, shooting him and a pain-faced Daniel Jackson apologetic glances. Several minutes passed, and then came the death- toll of Jaffa metal boots. In his grip, Daniel froze, light blue eyes skipping up in panic. Like rabbits caught in headlights, Carter and O'Neill froze, their eyes wide. The Jaffa marched past them, oblivious to the two Tau'ri hidden behind a bush, and O'Neill released his breath.  
  
Hush Daniel Jackson, Teal'c appealed silently to his friend as the Jaffa marched past them- and then halted. The young man was stiff with panic, and his mouth and nose was twitching oddly. Fearing the worst, Teal'c clamped his second hand over Daniel's mouth. It was the wrong thing to do- Daniel let out a howl of pain as his thigh was jolted, and the Jaffa spun around. Two stormed through the bush and found Teal'c and Daniel- immediately, the younger man was pulled away, a zatnikitel pressed against his neck, fat fingers digging into his bleeding leg. Like a pack of hungry wolves, the other Jaffa circled Teal'c and began to kick and punch, ramming the butt ends of their staff weapons into his pouch. His howl of pain was lost by the cries of SG-1;  
  
" Teal'c!" That was Daniel Jackson- a mere gasp.  
  
" Daniel!" And that was Captain Carter and O'Neill- their cries alarmed as a yell of pain filled the air. Then everything became lost in a haze of red agony and a mysterious woman's double timbre voice;  
  
" Our Chosen One has returned to us" There was a pause, and then the silken voice continued: "The other humans shall be our slaves; kill the Shol'va."  
  
And then everything went dark.  
  
Teal'c's eyes snapped open, a low groan of pain on the tip of his tongue, and he scowled down at his belly, and growled in a loud, firm voice; " You are a most odious symbiote, Junior."  
  
He unfolded his legs, lifted the staff weapon from his thighs, and stood, stretching. A quick glance to his watch revealed that over five hours had passed- and once again, Teal'c glared at his stomach. A shadow flickered across the wall, and Teal'c spun on his heel, his staff weapon raised.  
  
" Hello?" he thundered, " Who dwells here?"  
  
A dark form emerged from the shadows, followed by another, and another, and another…  
  
Several men, dressed in dark ragged clothes, stood before him, circling the still lake. In their hands, were some sort of energy weapon- electricity sparked over the ends of them- their faces twisted into scowls.  
  
" The Aresians of the East, Lordling," one of them finally snarled in an icy voice, his weapon pointed directly at Teal'c's chest. " Why is it you seek us?"  
  
*  
  
" God, why won't you work?" The wail was punctuated by a fist slamming into something solid, and was followed by a grunt of pain. O'Neill blinked and shuddered as he jarred his broken ribs, making them throb. His face twisting into a grimace of pain, he fumbled with the radio, and softly said, " Carter…"  
  
The strange shuffling halted, and a second later, a slim, pale-faced blonde woman scrambled over the side of the DHD and slid down to him. Her eyebrows were knitted with worry, mouth pinched, and a vivid red graze accentuated high cheekbones.  
  
"Colonel?" she asked softly, and, for the briefest of moments, Jack could see his reflection in her teary warm blue eyes; he looked like shit- grey- faced, bruised and his dark eyes sunken and bright. He shivered again, and muttered half-sullenly, half-jokingly; " I'm usually the first one up."  
  
Sam inhaled sharply.  
  
" You're bleeding internally, I don't know how badly. Your broken leg may already be frostbitten, I can't tell. I've been trying to warm it up with the last of our cooking sterno, but that's about it."  
  
So this was what it was about, O'Neill thought dimly, Carter's failing for once in her perfect life, and she's dealing with it badly. Trying to reassure the young Captain, he struggled to sit up, failed, and whispered, " What's the bad news? Help me up."  
  
Shaggy pale blonde hair moved from side to side as Sam violently shook her head.  
  
" No sir, you need to heal. That's an order."  
  
Jack arched an eyebrow.  
  
" I give the orders around here," he said in mild surprise.  
  
" Doctors orders," the Captain said shortly.  
  
Sam took the mess kit from where it had been warming on their field stove, her eyes wide and anxious, and scrambled back to the shivering Colonel.  
  
" I want you to drink as much of this as you can. When that sterno dies, we won't be able to thaw anymore." She had to lift his head, and even then he was only able to drink a few swallows. Sam's face screwed up in frustration again, and she snarled suddenly, " I should have gotten you out by now."  
  
" You will, you will."  
  
Sam didn't seem to hear him.  
  
" I've been working on the control panel for the last twelve hours," she continued bitterly, " I don't know why it won't work. It should work." Her last muttering came out as a sigh; " I'm missing something."  
  
" Captain," Jack's voice jerked her back to the present, as weak as it were.  
  
" Yes sir."  
  
" It's time to go to Plan B," he whispered weakly. She frowned.  
  
" And what would Plan B be?" she asked suspiciously.  
  
" You. You take the rest of the supplies and climb out of here. Take your chances up on the planet. Head towards daylight."  
  
Carter visibly recoiled.  
  
" If I can't get that Stargate to work, we'll both go," she snapped loyally back at him. Jack snorted, and then cringed as pain flared across his chest.  
  
" Right. I'll race ya." O'Neill gasped out, " Now Captain, make it work."  
  
" Yes sir."  
  
Cold…so cold…  
  
Jack's eyes snapped open as a gull shrieked overhead, its' call loud, piercing and desolated. For a brief moment, he thought he was back in the Antarctic, freezing to death whilst a near-hysterical Captain Carter tried to figure out how to save them both with (what they thought at the time) a malfunctioning DHD and a tonne of ice.  
  
But it isn't as if this place is any better, he thought grimly as he struggled to sit up. He was half-successful- he managed to sit up, but only with the help of a tree trunk. Jack waited for the world to stop its' consistent looping and then angrily, he forced his aching, stiff legs to stand, holding onto the trunk of an elm tree for support. Coolly, he raked the area with his dark, military eyes, silently assessing it. He had dragged himself onto what appeared to be an island- at the most, it had an area of one mile squared, and a few elm trees and blackberry bushes dotted the dull green grass. Directly opposite him was another island- slightly bigger than the one he stood on, although it was just as sparse. Imagining for one moment that his team were still with him, rather than scattered across the planet, Jack mused; " So I can't really live off the islands…" he gazed out to the endless blue ocean and the orange-gold fish, that even from here, he could see darting from side to side, just underneath the surface, "…but I can use the wood to make a raft. It's not as if there isn't enough water…"  
  
Or food, his mind silently added, and his stomach rumbled treacherously.  
  
Blinking, he grimaced as his chest suddenly tightened and the Colonel doubled over, coughing.  
  
"Peachy!" he finally snarled to empty air when he had straightened, wiping his stuffy nose with the back of his hand, " Just what I need! Carter and Daniel's cold." He glared at the never-ending body of water and growled suspiciously, " This is karma…no, no, wait, this is a massive cosmic joke. I'm always complaining that every world we go to is like some kind of Nature Reserve Park, or better yet, a desert, so The Powers That Be send be to some kind of Water-world. Super." As if adding insult to injury, his stomach growled menacingly, and O'Neill suddenly realised just how hungry he was.  
  
Jack flashed his rumbling stomach a false smile, and snagged his canvas backpack from the dewy carpet of grass, pulling at the cord. It opened, revealing the traditional field MediKit, and then, just beneath that, a canteen of water, and the MRE's. With a grimace, Jack pulled out the nearest MRE- Beef and Broccoli- and tore it open. Unenthusiastically, he chewed the dry, tasteless meat and the green fluff that accompanied it, his stomach churning and roiling rebelliously the entire time.  
  
" Hey!" Jack snapped at it, " You were the one that started this. Quit whining."  
  
The sky was a deep red-purple, the moon only just beginning to rise, and the ocean, that earlier that day had looked like an endless blue-green jewel, was now almost black. A shaft of yellow moonlight struck the water, catching the tips of Jack's muddy boots- and, as if by instinct, Jack moved into the light, to the edge of the island, where the water was calmer.  
  
Something sparkled; a something that was suspiciously ring-shaped.  
  
The hair on the back of his neck rising, Jack stared at it, and whispered to himself:  
  
" What the hell…?"  
  
*  
  
Daniel gingerly lowered himself into the natural pool, wincing as the water lapped against cuts and bruises he hadn't quite realised he had had until he had stripped off his clothes. It was his second day- or third if he counted the time difference between this place and the City of Ares- on P0X-4947 and the archaeologist was tired, miserable, hungry and suspected that his flu was once again, returning. Rather than sleeping as he probably should have, Daniel had spent the entire night retching- the berries hadn't 'agreed' with his stomach- and now, in the harsh, cold light of day, his stomach was sore and pitifully empty.  
  
His clothes lay in a neat, folded pile by a tree nearby, his muddied boots lying discarded by them. Hanging from the tree branch was his backpack, and- Daniel winced as he imagined what Jack's reaction to it would have been- with that, his pistol, the safety catch on. In fact, the only part of his uniform- per se- he had kept on had been his glasses, though the younger man doubted that would be for too long; they were fogging up from the steam rising from the pool.  
  
With a sigh, he reached up, he reached up, pulled off the frames and folded them gently, placing them on the dewy grass, and then, with a long hiss, sunk into the water.  
  
As he had expected, it was deliciously warm- the water rushed against his body, washing away what felt like weeks of dirt, but was only a few days worth. It smelt, strangely enough, strongly of flowers, and blinking, Daniel glanced around him, trying to locate the smell. A few yards to his left was a rocky outcrop that, at seventy feet high, towered over him and everything around it. He had planned on climbing it later, to look around him properly. His nostrils flared again, and a faint smile ghosted his face; white-green blossoms grew along the side of the outcrop- they were Magnolias, if the old plant fanatic in the apartment next door was anything to go by.  
  
Satisfied that he had solved the mystery of the strange floral smell, Daniel closed his eyes, allowing the comforting warmth to lull him into slumber…  
  
He was in the SGC, strangely enough- standing just outside his office. An airman stood there, blank-faced as usual, his hands behind his back, legs shoulder-width apart. Daniel glanced at his office- a piece of laminated paper- he had yet to get a bronze plaque like the General, or Jack or Sam- that read 'Doctor Jackson' was taped to the slightly ajar door. Daniel tilted his head to the side, and saw the flickering of two shadows. He was about to comment on this, when one of the shadows spoke;  
  
" She knew we were coming Jack. She knew I was coming."  
  
Daniel's mouth dropped open. It was his own voice- younger and less…worldly…than he was now. Jack's voice- less weary and more sarcastic- was scornful.  
  
" How Daniel? Did her dad have a dream in the sarcophagus or something crazy…" Daniel almost heard himself flinch as the voice trailed off, and Jack added apologetically, " Sorry. That was uncalled for."  
  
" Yes, uh, yes it was," the other Daniel replied awkwardly. " And no. Her mother- before she died- told her that a man from another world would arrive, and he would be her destiny."  
  
There was a very long, sceptic silence. Then finally;  
  
" Daniel, you realise that that was probably bullshit, right? She probably took one look at her rescuer, fell head over heels in love and made up a lie to keep you."  
  
A sense of deja vu ran through Daniel; he had had this very conservation with Jack shortly after he had helped Shyla destroy the sarcophagus.  
  
" Jack! You can't be sure about that. I mean, we don't know her history- who knows whether my arrival was prophesised or not? I mean the Nox us-"  
  
" Daniel," the dream Jack interrupted gently, " You don't actually believe in any of that magic crap, right? The Nox are incredibly advanced, not psychic. Magic or prophecies, or whatever you want to call them, just don't exist."  
  
In the real conservation, Daniel had glared at Jack, and had spat back;  
  
" I can't believe you, of all people, can say that Jack- seeing as we travel across the Universe on a weekly basis, and have seen far weirder things than Jerry Springer can ever hope to see."  
  
" You watch Jerry Springer?"  
  
Daniel blinked, and realised that the two in the room were following the exact same conservation.  
  
" What? No!" the other Daniel stammered- he had always been a bad liar. " The point is, we can't rule magic out Jack. You know, during my first year with Sha're, Kasuf told me that our arrival had been prophesised- although in the prophecy we were Gods, because they didn't realise that the Goa'uld weren't quite Gods…"  
  
The other Jack sighed; heavily.  
  
" You've made your point Daniel. Magic can exist." The door in the dream suddenly vanished- as did the Airman and the other Daniel ( the real Daniel noticed absently that he had long light brown hair again). Jack whirled around, faced the other Daniel and shot him a sardonic smile. " But isn't it possible that people like Shyla, or the Aresians, are playing on our weaknesses, to do their job for them?"  
  
Daniel awoke, his skin all wrinkled like a newborn, with the feeling that something was very, very wrong. His heart jumped, and for the briefest of seconds, he thought that like Chaka's lake, the pool he bathed in was full of Goa'uld larvae.  
  
No, he thought in relief as he glanced around, that isn't it.  
  
The hair on the back of his neck prickled, and automatically, Daniel's eyes flickered up to the rocky outcrop. His heart skipped.  
  
There was someone there.  
  
That someone, in particular, was dressed in dark, mottled green clothing, and had sallow, pale skin- although most of the skin was muddied. The man had a strange mark that Daniel couldn't quite make out, on his forehead, and was glaring at the archaeologist.  
  
As glad as he was to see someone else, Daniel felt the first flutterings of anxiety.  
  
Oh shit, he inwardly cried, please don't let this be some kind of sacred pool that I happened to meander into.  
  
Fumbling, he jammed his glasses- they began to fog up ridiculously again- onto his overheated face, and called up to the man in the most contrite voice he could muster;  
  
" Hello? My name's Daniel Jackson- I was sent here by the Chieftain of your planet, Amah Darner…uh…I'm sorry if I…um, corrupted your pool. I didn't mean to." That sounded pathetic, even for him, Daniel noted absently, staring up at the man. The man regarded him coldly for several long minutes- at one point, Daniel could have sworn he heard the man mutter ' Naïf-ret!' which in Pahlavi, meant Chosen One- and then the man threw back his head- long, straggly greasy brown hair tumbled over his shoulders- and laughed.  
  
Daniel blinked.  
  
" Naïf-ret!" the man yelled down, reaching behind him, and pulling out a long cross-bow, " How I have looked forward in killing you…" There was a spark of light, and then a flaming arrow was loaded into the cross-bow, and Daniel became very aware of just how naked and vulnerable he was…  
  
The man pulled back the string to the crossbow, released it, and the flaming arrow shot out, soaring through the air. It landed with deadly accuracy, impaling one of Daniel's boots. The man cursed, and loaded another arrow. Daniel felt his eyes widen in fear, and did the only thing he could possibly think of doing- he ducked.  
  
The warm water lifted strands of his short hair, as Daniel kicked away from the side he had been sleeping against, swimming underneath the crystal clear pool. He twisted, so that he swam, eyes facing the surface, his lungs burning, and saw another arrow- blurry under the water- streak across the sky, landing where he had been.  
  
Jackson kicked harder, and began to swim towards the outcrop.  
  
When his lungs could take it no longer, he shot out of the water, choking and gasping- an arrow shot through the water, and snapped as it hit a rock. Daniel looked up; the man- a Lordling most probably- was clambering down the outcrop, shooting in wild abandon at the archaeologist. Desperately, Daniel looked back to where his pile of clothes, ruined boots and his pistol were, and swore colourfully.  
  
Another arrow soared through the air, this time just brushing by him, tearing the skin across his chest- instantly, the clear water began to cloud with blood- the warmth was encouraging it.  
  
Daniel looked up again to see the man grinning at him from across the pool.  
  
Hissing as pain flared across his chest, he kicked over to the rocky outcrop, and pulled himself up the side- the flare turned into a sharp throb that made his eyes water- bruising his elbows and knees as he did so. The man's eyes widened for a brief moment at Jackson's nakedness, and then he raised his crossbow determinedly. An arrow flew; Daniel pressed himself against the wall, and his heart thumping in his chest, he began to inch himself across the ledge, cringing as arrow after arrow flew.  
  
If there are Gods out there, he thought desperately, then please- oh God, please- help me. You probably landed me in this crappy mess, so help me out of it…  
  
Maybe it was luck, or kismet, or fate, or part of his prophecy- or maybe Gods really did exist- for a sudden curse filled the air as the Lordling ran out of arrows. Daniel nearly let out a sob of relief, and took his chance as the Lordling stormed over to his smoking boot, and tugged out the arrow. Daniel darted across the ledge, and onto the grassy field- his cheeks flamed with embarrassment- and tackled the man. They fell to the floor in a tangle of legs and arms- the man dropped the arrow, in favour of trying to punch Daniel. In retaliation Daniel slammed the heel of his hand into the man's throat- a move he had learnt as a very young child, in self- defence. The Lordling's face went grey, his eyes growing wide, and his hands flew to his throat as he tried to breathe. It was the wrong move to make; wincing in sympathy, Daniel slammed the man's head against the rocky floor; instantly, the man slackened beneath him, his eyes rolling up into the back of his head.  
  
Pressing two fingers to the side of the stranger's neck- he was still alive- Daniel stood shakily, and hesitated. Hanging from the tree, only a few metres away, was his backpack and gun. He could shoot the enemy in the head- the man was unconscious, he wouldn't feel a thing.  
  
But the problem with that is that I really, really can't, Daniel softly thought. The gash across his chest was beginning to sting now- although the wound was only superficial- blood seeping from it, pooling in his naval.  
  
He couldn't take a human- or alien for that matter- life, as if he were just snuffing out a flame. He hadn't been able to kill Chaka, a seven foot tall Unas, who, at the time, had planned on eating Daniel- and he certainly wasn't able to kill another human being.  
  
In his mind, Daniel imagined he could hear Jack, for one moment, hopping up and down on foot in frustration, a small howl of exasperation exploding from his thin, narrow lips; " He's going to kill you Daniel, and trust me when I say he isn't alone in that thought…"  
  
Jackson smiled softly, sardonically, and as he scrambled over to his pile of clothes, tugging on his boxers, and then fatigue pants, slipping the tee- shirt over his head gingerly, he softly replied;  
  
" But the point is, I have the choice. That man was probably trained to kill me- he was probably brainwashed. He's unconscious Jack; he can't hurt me now."  
  
In the back of his mind, a little treacherous voice whispered back; Yes, he can't hurt you now. But for how long will that last?  
  
*  
  
At the same time that Daniel Jackson was desperately trying to raise the rest of SG-1 over their hand radios, Samantha Carter slept, and Samantha Carter dreamed:  
  
The mission was no different from any other mission.  
  
Correction, Jolinar of Malkshaw thought miserably, it had been no different than any other mission. It had been just like every other scout mission she had ever been on- up until the point the Ashrak- sent by Chronus in revenge of Ares' ( one of his more stronger allies) death- had showed up and killed her host. Jolinar, Martouf, Aldwin, Anise and Saba had all played an important part in Ares' destruction- they had, after all, been the one to show the Aresians ( pretending to be Aresians from the South) how to make the weapon to destroy Ares' ship, and how to disguise the keys as rings.  
  
' I am truly sorry for taking you as I did,' she apologised once again to her new host- a husband and a father, ' I had no choice. It can be reversed, I promised.'  
  
The host sent a wave of curses that would have made even the stoic Selmac wince.  
  
The combined yell from a young man, and a local villager named Ethel, jerked the Tok'ra spy back to the present, and she turned in mid-step. Her jaw fell.  
  
The sky was black with death-gliders, orange-red bolts already flying thick and heavy, raining down on them all. Ethel shrieked as a fiery bolt crashed into the dune she and the man- Daniel Jackson?- were about to dash over, and the man grimaced as pebbles bit into his skin.  
  
The man- Colonel Jack O'Neill- whom she, and the female, Captain Samantha Carter- had been conversing with, swore heavily ( Jolinar winced) and cried;  
  
" Daniel, Teal'c, Stargate, now! Give Hammond a bell, call for back-up!"  
  
Daniel looked like he might protest for a second, and then, as another shot tore across the sky, killing a mother and her child, he deflated, and shooting her host, Captain Carter and O'Neill a strange look- one she would later learn from Captain Carter to be anxiety- he dashed off to the Chappa'ai, and the Chappa'ai's Panel. Another death glider raced across the sky, to the south, and her host, struggling for control, gasped out;  
  
" My wife!"  
  
Before Jolinar, or indeed, the two Tau'ri strangers, could stop him, he- they- were racing over the dunes, dodging blows from the Death Glider. Even with the enhanced speed that came with joining with a Tok'ra, it took her host ten minutes to reach the Southern village, where he and his wife resided. Black smoke billowed from the village, and from one of the huts- Jolinar winced in recognition- a woman whimpered and cried in pain.  
  
Jolinar and her host raced into the hut- fire danced over the straw floor, and a woman in her mid-thirties lay, crumpled, on the floor, her skin blistering painfully.  
  
" Rosh'tel." Jolinar muttered viciously, feeling very glad that she had sent Aldwin back to the Tok're home-world when she had still had the chance. Apart from the fact that he was an awful prude and disapproved of any type of cursing at all ( his host had been the sole survivor of a Victorian society), the Tok'ra had only just been recently joined to his new host, and this was his host's first mission.  
  
Had he still been here, Aldwin and his host would most certainly have been dead.  
  
For the first time since she had taken him, her host suddenly spoke to her;  
  
'Can't you help her?' he asked coarsely, his mental voice rough and unhappy, ' You're meant to be helping us, as you so often claim…can't you help her?'  
  
Inwardly, Jolinar winced.  
  
Yes, there was a way to help his wife, but not quite in the way that he had in mind.  
  
The man seemed to sense her thoughts, and inwardly snarled at her;  
  
'Please! I love her- like you love your Martouf-'  
  
' That was low,' Jolinar reprimanded him quickly.  
  
Before her host could reply, shuffling outside the hut caught their attention.  
  
It was the young man- Daniel Jackson- whom they had seen earlier on. One hand squashed his hat down over his long, floppy, light-brown hair, and blue eyes sparkled anxiously behind wire frames. Jolinar froze.  
  
Behind Daniel Jackson was the Ashrak, the assassin's face twisted into a cruel smirk as he mimicked breaking the young Tau'ri's neck.  
  
" Yes," Jolinar bit out, staring all the while at the Ashrak, " my wife. She's been injured. You- you have to take her through the Chappa'ai."  
  
The Tau'ri nodded, and moved forward, gently lifting the woman from the floor- she moaned painfully- and carrying her from the hut. Daniel looked back, as if expecting the two to follow- reluctantly, Jolinar and the Ashrak fell into step behind him.  
  
It wasn't until the Tau'ri was back at the Stargate, waving and screaming for the villagers to go through the wormhole, that the Ashrak attacked. Smiling coldly, the Ashrak held up his hand, and pressed a button on the side of his uniform- long, sheaf-like claws shot out, and Jolinar screamed, tears gathering in her host's eyes- as they drove straight into her belly.  
  
As the life fled from her host's body, and she collapsed bonelessly to the floor, Jolinar screamed the name of her beloved;  
  
" Martouf! Lantesh!"  
  
Sam jerked awake, disorientated and confused. As like any other time she had had dreamt of one of Jolinar's many memories, her eyes were filled with tears and her face was twisted into a mask of misery.  
  
" Martouf's dead, remember?" she hissed furiously to herself as she pushed herself off the floor, grabbing her bag and smoothing out the wrinkles in her uniform. " You killed him."  
  
Weak, pale light streaked across the sky, and the two suns were only just beginning to rise, the light dancing over the miasma of mist that rolled over the grass. The bulls that had almost killed her the day before, were gone, the air thick with a pointed silence. Tiredly, Sam turned her red- rimmed blue eyes to the village that she had seen the day before. People- men and women- were moving about in a flurry of activity. Remembering her dream, and how Jolinar and the rest of the Tok'ra had helped the Aresians to build the original weapon and rings, Sam arched an eyebrow and started towards the village.  
  
*  
  
The ring- it was the ring- sparkled enticingly underneath the surface of the water, the moonlight turning the gem silver. Jack grinned at his own luck, and slipped off his boots, knotting the laces together and hanging them around his neck. Then, without a second thought, he slipped into the water, and nearly gave a yell of surprise; it was a lot colder and deeper than it actually looked, and he sank like a stone beneath the water's surface.  
  
The boots heavy around his neck, Jack kicked his way back to the surface, heaving in a lungful of air, before he allowed the currents to drag him back under the water, to the icy-cold, inky back ocean depths.  
  
As an ex-Black Ops soldier, Jack O'Neill had been trained to hold his breath for long lengths of time- a skill that had helped him out more times than he cared to remember- and as he dove down, into the darkness, where the ring twinkled invitingly, the Colonel took the time to take in his new surroundings.  
  
After all, Jack thought grimly, unless this ring works like Dorothy's red shoes, then this place is going to be my home for quite a long time…  
  
The thought struck a chord of nausea in the pit of his stomach; the last time he had ever had a thought like that, he had been stuck on Edora, the Stargate buried under God-knows-how-many feet of earth.  
  
The underwater world, despite the bone-chilling cold and the oppressive darkness, was exquisite; cerulean-blue fish, little pulses of what looked like light running across their slender bodies, weaved in between the large orange-gold fish he had noticed when they had first arrived. A few yards away swarmed white-gold fish that shimmered and sparkled, and glistened and glittered under the dappled shafts of silver moonlight. A faint smile ghosted his lips at the sight.  
  
He halted, and floated in the water as he came to an undersea sandy cliff ledge, pink coral growing just beneath it. Trapped, in a ball of blue energy, was the ring.  
  
It was- or, at least had once been- silver, the gem in the middle a translucent snowy-white. Scratched into the surface was what looked like a Goa'uld symbol.  
  
Hesitantly, O'Neill reached out to the ring, his clothes sagging beneath him. His fingers were a scant few inches from the shield when a spark of energy shot out, grazing his knuckle. Jack started as a jolt of pain ran up his arm, and his knuckle blistered.  
  
What the hell…? He silently snapped.  
  
He tried again; more sparks shot out from the ball, stinging his face and the back of his palm. Silently, bitterly, Jack snarled at the energy ball; 'There's always a catch! Always!' His lungs were beginning to burn from lack of oxygen, Amah's desperate voice as he explained about the prophecy echoing in the back of his head, Jack plunged his hand into the ball of energy, scrunching his face up in anticipation. His fingers curled around the ring, and snatched it from its' holdings.  
  
And nothing happened.  
  
He opened his eyes again, slipping the ring onto the chain holding his dog- tags, and stared.  
  
Okay, my earlier assessment might be a tad off…again, he inwardly corrected.  
  
A massive wave- the only description he could think of- was spreading out from where the ring had been, bubbles jettisoning from it viciously. The tropical fish he had seen earlier on were scattering, allowing Jack to see, for the first time, past them, and into the gloomy darkness.  
  
He stared, and had the situation not been so dire, would have rubbed his eyes.  
  
Underneath the water were a series of glowing, fluorescent-white domes that reached out into the darkness, fading away like stars at night.  
  
His lungs burning, Jack blinked, promising himself to investigate this later, he kicked out his legs, striving to reach the silver, dappled surface.  
  
This time, instead of crying inwardly, Jack opened his mouth ( a stream of bubbles jettisoned out, and rose to the surface) and cried out in muffled surprise;  
  
" What the hell?"  
  
Latched onto his ankles, was a stream of the blue energy, holding him prisoner to the ocean. His mind racing with panic, Jack twisted, trying to break the stream of energy; instead of freeing him, more streams shot out from the ball of energy that had held the ring, and clamped around his arms, like Octopus tentacles.  
  
Jack panicked; the burning in his lungs seemed that more prominent, the darkness edging into his vision that more obvious. Face twisted in terror, he struggled against the blue bonds- immediately, they began to retreat back to the ball of energy, taking him with them, and pinning him against the wall.  
  
O'Neill's eyes widened, and he yelled soundlessly, thrashing against the bonds.  
  
His lungs ached and throbbed, screaming just as silently for air, and as his vision blurred, Jack's struggles weakened. To his chagrin, his legs grew heavy, useless, and sunk back onto the ledge, sending something white- a skull- spiralling into the black depths.  
  
Just before darkness claimed him, he thought he saw a surprised looking woman dressed in loin cloths, and thought weakly;  
  
Hail Ariel…  
  
And then there was nothing.  
  
*  
  
The Village of the North Sea  
  
" It's leaking again," Toros Thessil sighed heavily, running the tip of his fore finger down the length of the smooth, crystalline glass, cringing when a drop of icy cold water seeped through the spider-webbed crack, and trickled down to the sandy floor.  
  
Artemis, a scholar and son to the Chieftain ( Arris Frau) of the village of the North Sea, looked up from the book he had been reading, his brown-black eyes questioning. His fingers rested, splayed over a yellow, crinkled page, Aresian symbols covering it. Toros glanced out of the corner of his warm hazel eyes, knowing instinctively that the book would be the highly controversial 'Decree of Truth', written thousands of years ago, by the Ancient Aresians. The young scholar was fascinated by what he claimed to once be 'fact' ( although over the many years with little contact from the outside world, had soon degenerated into legend).  
  
" It's a thousand years old," Artemis suddenly spoke, his eyes fixed on the glass dome- an orange-gold fish darted past suddenly, and a smile curved his lips. " You can't expect it to last forever."  
  
Toros' brow crinkled into a frown.  
  
" No, but if the crack widens any further, then the village will flood," he muttered anxiously. At only twenty-six, he was still a boy, and an apprentice to Res Tore, helping the frail, elderly man to repair malfunctions within the village, or the women with their underwater 'farms'- a fish corral. He turned back to Artemis, and added thoughtfully, " And we are not Sea-Breathers, Artemis, any more than the Chosen Ones truly exist."  
  
Annoyance flickered across Artemis' features, but he didn't rise to the taunt, instead turning another aged page in the book: Toros glanced at him once, before he returned to gingerly tracing the cracks in the glass.  
  
In the days when Ares had sent his Lordlings to hunt down the ring-keepers and to punish the Aresians for their insubordination, the Aresians of the North had fled to under the sea, and to their domes.  
  
Unlike the Chieftain of the West, they had anticipated the Lordlings attack years before, and had began- with the help of an Aresian from the South, named Jolinar- to build underwater domes. The men of their village- once the women and children had been safely sent to the domes- had set fire to the fields, destroying any evidence of their existence. They had then set traps- they had dismantled the Transport System, suspecting that the Lordlings would use it for their own purposes, and then they had hidden the ring in a ball of energy – or 'Lembras' as they preferred to call it- waiting for either death or the Chosen Ones.  
  
" If the crack bothers you so much," Artemis suddenly said, laying down his book on the floor, " then why don't you ask Lya to help you mend it? Res is too old now…" His gaze was drawn back to the ocean depths, to where the Aresians of the North had hidden the ring so long ago, and he added slyly, whimsically, "…and if the Chosen Ones do not exist, then why do we still protect the ring?"  
  
Toros flushed.  
  
" Lya's hunting," he snapped, " as you well know. And the reason we still 'protect the ring' is simply because there is no-one who still breathes that has been able to even touch it, as thieves have wel-"  
  
His voice was drowned out as a low roar pierced the air, and the glass cracked. Eyes wide, Artemis stood, the book falling to the floor. Toros was breathing wildly, stepping rapidly back from the glass wall, and as the apprentice stumbled into the scholar, Artemis could see why; the crack in the glass was widening and spreading, the slow trickle growing that much more powerful and vicious. His eyes flickered instinctively up to where the ring still glowed, and widened; the slim form of a man, held prisoner by tendrils of pale blue energy, struggled and slumped back against the rocky cliff-face, where the ring had once been. Then suddenly, Toros' fingers were interlacing with his, and the boy was pulling him with him, as he yelled in fright; powerful white waves were pushing against the glass wall.  
  
" It's breaking!" Toros screamed unnecessarily in his ear, and pulled him into the Hiatus Hall, darting across to a nearby panelled wall, his fingers flying over the buttons there. Numb, Artemis watched through shuttered eyes as the cracks in the glass widened, and a pool of water seeped into the hall. Then;  
  
" Oh, thank Ares, foul Vi'ce that he was…" Toros shot Artemis a shaky grin as a wall of green-blue energy sparked into life, just as the glass in the dome shattered with a thunderous roar, and what seemed like a wall of water surged, crashing against the energy barrier. He watched sadly as 'Decree of Truth' was savagely torn apart by the force of the water, the pages immediately disintegrating. He was jerked back to the present by Toros' concerned voice;  
  
" Are you okay?"  
  
Artemis blinked, and suddenly realised he was cradling his right hand gingerly, blood beginning to seep through his fingers, staining his pale skin. Shakily, he lifted his hand, hot pain shooting up his arm from the palm of his hand; embedded in his palm was a shard of glass.  
  
" I'm fine- I must have been caught by a piece of glass. It's nothing for you- or Mother- to worry about." He turned to face Toros, eyes narrowing as he took in the other man's condition:  
  
Toros pale skin had taken on a green hue, and blood trickled from various cuts on his face and arms- in the mad dash to safety, neither had paid much attention to the flying shards of glass- after all, when faced with a mountain of water, a small cut seemed insignificant. Toros' clothes- made from the underwater cotton plant, like his own- were soaked through, water (although it could just as easily be sweat) dripping from his hair.  
  
There was a moment of silence as the two men stared at one another, taking in the various scrapes and cuts, and then Artemis suddenly blurted;  
  
" A man had managed to get the ring, Toros! There must have been some kind of trap in the barrier that held the ring- that must have been what caused…this…" Frustrated, Artemis flung his hands out, indicating the water pressing against the blue-green wall. Every now and again, it would flare with a surge of blinding colour, as a rock or a particularly large fish would be crushed against it, by the force of the water.  
  
Toros shook his head, water flying from his shoulder length dirty blonde hair, staining Artemis' tunic.  
  
" Nay, young Artemis," he muttered, "you must have been imagining things. Maybe the stories of the past have addled your brains." He shot the younger man ( Artemis had only just turned nineteen) a crooked grin.  
  
" Or maybe he was telling the truth," a breathless voice suddenly said. Both men turned, and Artemis realised belatedly that the Hiatus Hall led to the Underwater Egress- an exit commonly used by Toros when he was making repairs outside the underwater village, and the hunting women.  
  
Her long, dark hair wet and knotted, clothes clinging unattractively to her slim, lithe body, Lya Tore stood, cradling the man Artemis had seen earlier on. His face was pale underneath his natural tan, hair grey, lips tinged blue, and his head lolled back against the young woman's shoulder.  
  
For once, Lya looked shaken, her dark eyes constantly flitting back to a chain around the other man's neck, and as Toros automatically took him from her shaking arms, she added anxiously;  
  
" He still breathes, but I don't know for how long…the ring's snare almost killed him."  
  
They set off at a pace to the 'Inner City', as the middle halls had been aptly named, Toros looking doubtfully down at the older man. He wore funny clothes- a mottled green-brown- and his shoes- tough leather that had not been seen in a great many years- were around his neck. Finally, unable to stand the unnatural silence any longer, Artemis asked;  
  
" Is he a thief then?"  
  
Lya halted, her eyes almost shining with joy.  
  
" That's just the thing," she grinned, " He isn't. He freed the ring. I think he's one of the Chosen Four."  
  
*  
  
The journey to the village took longer than Sam had anticipated; mainly because her legs were stiff and sore from the day before, and her stomach growled with hunger, that, if only for the moment, she was pointedly ignoring. By the time she reached the village- although 'city' seemed a more apt description- the two suns were high in the sky, burning the bridge of her nose.  
  
The village- City, she inwardly corrected- was bustling with frantic activity, men grabbing horses ( and in one chilling case, a bull) by the reins, and mounting them, flinging bulging canvas bags onto them…  
  
" Hello…I'm Maj-"  
  
Sam's greeting trailed off and she gave a cry of surprise as two girls- one who looked nineteen, the other six- shoved past her, almost knocking her down in her weakened state. The youngest looked near hysterical, and was shooting fearful glances behind her, at the green lolling hills, and the elder was holding the girl, running in wild circles, and shrieking at the top of her lungs;  
  
" The Lordlings are here! The Lordlings are here!"  
  
The communal hysteria seemed to treble; women folded, crying and screaming, and the men paled, yelling hoarsely at one another. Sam felt as if she had walked onto the set of a particularly impressive movie, and she stopped, turning in a full circle in a daze.  
  
If the villagers noticed her, they paid no attention- only pushing at her aggressively, stampeding in a panic to the woods where she had spent the night, some doubled over in their tears. Facing screwing up in frustration, she tried again;  
  
" I'm Major Samantha Carter. Please, is there any way I can-"  
  
One woman, dressed in an unflattering cotton tunic, a canvas bag slung over her shoulders, grabbed Sam by the shoulders, and shook her roughly.  
  
" Did you not hear Ruthie?" she snarled, her amber eyes wide and wild, " Are your brains addled? The Dark Riders come! Flee, whilst you still draw breath!" Just as suddenly as she had grasped Sam's shoulders, the woman abruptly pushed her away; Sam's boots slipped on the muddy ground, and she fell backwards, landing roughly on her bruised back, her P90 slamming into her hip-bone painfully. Sucking in her breath, Sam winced, her blue eyes flickering up- and she froze in sudden understanding, her fingers slipping down to curl around her rifle.  
  
Just beginning to crest the hill, the sunlight dancing over the tips of their heads and broad backs, were mountainously large horses, helmets sheltering their fragile skulls. Seated upon them were what Sam presumed to be the Lordlings- men of all different colours, all bearing a silver tattoo. Their eyes were dark; wild, and in their hands they held flaming torches, and colossal swords. Dark smiles settled over their cold faces, their eyes oddly blank and dull. In that second, Sam felt like screaming and whimpering in terror herself.  
  
A dirty, blood-caked foot crashed by her head, as the panic gripping the village rose a notch, and suddenly aware of her vulnerability, Sam rolled to the side, and shakily stood, bringing her P90 up. A girl crashed to her knees in front of her, sobbing.  
  
Sam swallowed hard and carefully moved around her, guilt washing over her.  
  
The Lordlings- the Dark Riders- were storming over the lolling hills, like a human tsunami, their torches raised, as if in mock greeting- already, flames were beginning to lick the thatch roofs of the huts, black smoke consuming the surrounding air.  
  
This is probably the most stupid idea I've ever had, Sam thought wryly, but if I want to ever escape this godamn place and find my team-mates, then I need to know what my so-called enemy know…  
  
Gritting her teeth, Sam undid the safety catch, and strode forward, against the wave of panicking villagers, towards the Lordlings. Her heart thumped with fear she hadn't truly felt since she had been trapped on Hathor's planet with Daniel and the Colonel, Jaffa firing at them, forcing her, Daniel and SG-3 to retreat to the Tok'ra tunnels. A few of the villagers were stopping in their frantic dash, and staring at her, their eyes brimming with tears of hope, as they clustered together, the men huddling in front of the children and women.  
  
Sam ignored them, and marched on, past burning huts, and to the Lordlings.  
  
Oh my god.  
  
Her mouth went dry, and her heart fell, as she came to her first Lordling- a heavy-set muscular man, with small, beady dark eyes, and a large crooked nose. His forehead was marred by an inflamed silver tattoo, and he wore what looked like chain-mail- albeit, ragged, shabby chain-mail.  
  
He was trying to beat the nineteen-year-old girl she had seen earlier, to death- holding his flaming torch a few scant inches from her long, wild, curly hair, a sneer marring his heavy-jowled features. The girl was crying and begging, and trying to wriggle and scramble away, but to no avail.  
  
" The Transport was used," the man was snarling at her, one hand frozen in mid-air, as if preparing to backhand her, " which means the Chosen have arrived. Where are they, wench?"  
  
Then he hit her, his blow making the girl's head snap painfully backwards, as she fell to the ground, tears streaming down her face.  
  
" Where are they? Where are the rings?"  
  
The girl was crying at him now; screaming, jarring her words together, in one long stream of babble;  
  
" I don't know, Idontknowidontknowidontknow…no! Don't hurt me!"  
  
The Lordling moved to strike her again, and Sam, having seen enough, moved in to stop him, jamming her gun into the side of his temple.  
  
" You should listen to her," she said icily.  
  
The man roared, and twisted, his fists flying. One caught Sam in the midriff, sending her flying, her lungs sobbing for air as bile rose up her throat. She gave a grunt of pain, and doubled over, struggling to her feet.  
  
" That wasn't very wise," she snapped back at him, lifting her rifle, and pulling the trigger. There was an explosion of noise, and the man froze in mid-lunge as the bullet ripped through his chest- he crumpled to the ground, one hand creeping disbelievingly to the bloody chain-mail, before slackening suddenly.  
  
Dead, Sam observed, vaguely sickened and appalled by the fact that she had just killed a human being.  
  
A whimper at her elbow jerked her back to reality, and Sam twisted, glancing down. The teenager that the Lordling had been trying to beat into submission, had managed to crawl on grazed knees to Sam's feet, and was staring up with fearful, teary eyes.  
  
"…elp me?" The girl coughed- thick, black smoke was making both their eyes sting, and already, Sam could feel the heat of the flames. " Help me?"  
  
Sam's eyes brimmed with tears of compassion, and she lowered her rifle.  
  
" God, yes! I'm Major Samantha Carter- I was sent here from the City of Ares, by Father Amah Darner." With her free hand, she grasped the younger girl's wrist, and pulled her to her feet. A sob choked the teenager, and she collapsed against Sam, whimpering and hiccupping, flinging her arms around Carter's neck. Awkwardly, she patted the girl's back, her eyes mindful of the fact that more of the Lordling's would be arriving, and soon.  
  
Finally, the teenager pulled back, and managed to mewl out:  
  
" Are you one of the Chosen?"  
  
" Apparently." Sam wryly said.  
  
" Then you have to help me! My sister, Saeras- she's hurt…" the girl doubled over, coughing desperately, and Sam felt a muscle in her jaw twitch unhappily.  
  
" I'll help you," she promised, " But first, let's get you to safety before the rest of the Lordlings come, okay?"  
  
She didn't wait for the girl's permission, her hand clamping around the girl's wrist, as she tugged the girl forward, away from the raging fire and the clouds of smoke. Her eyes were stinging, and her lungs burned, and already, the teenager was stumbling over every little thing. After what seemed like eternity, they stumbled out from the black miasma, into fresh air. To Sam's surprise, she was nowhere near the village, or the forest, but somewhere between the cliffs and the mountains.  
  
" Oh thank God," she muttered to herself as she whirled around- near to the edge of the sea and its glaciers, lay a well-hidden cave. The girl whimpering and begging with her to save Saeras, Sam cradled the teenager ( the girl could no longer walk) and staggered forward, into the fresh, cool, dark cave.  
  
" You promised," the teenager whimpered as Sam lay her on the cold floor. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, and Sam bit her lip uncomfortably.  
  
She had promised the girl- but to go back would be suicide. Her head throbbing viciously, she muttered angrily to herself, " Damn you and your stupid promises Samantha Carter…"  
  
Standing back, she crept out of the cave, and loped back to the thick, ghastly black cloud. Bodies- most of them were the villagers- carpeted the dewy grass, and she could hear the clattering of hooves and the cries of the Lordling. Fear churning in her stomach, Sam gripped her rifle, and raised it cautiously, and then fell to her knees. Reaching into her fatigues pocket, she pulled out a crumpled tissue from when she and Daniel had had the flu, and pressed it against her nose and mouth, and crawled into the black miasma of evil.  
  
Orange-gold flames licked the sky and clouds, crackling loud, lighting the pillaged huts. In one of them, a child coughed pathetically. Her heart sparking with hope, Sam crawled into the entrance.  
  
" Saeras?" she called in a weak voice. The blurred form of a child turned, smoky grey eyes wide with hope- it wasn't the six-year-old girl she had seen earlier, but what looked like a four-year-old boy.  
  
Her breath caught in her throat; there was no way she could rescue everyone in the village, but at the same time, she couldn't just leave a child to die either.  
  
Tears prickling her eyes, she muttered, " Oh, damn," and staggered to her feet, coughing horribly.  
  
" It's okay," she bleated, " Really. I'm…I'm one of the Chosen…you can trust me."  
  
The young boy looked like what she had imagined Daniel or the Colonel looked like when they had been young- wide, trusting eyes, dimples, pale skin and a mop of sandy blonde hair- and for a moment, her heart ached for her missing team mates.  
  
The boy inched forward, placing his small hand into her own, and she curled her fingers around his, smiling reassuringly.  
  
" I'm Sam," she added as an afterthought.  
  
" I'm Jayam," he replied in a soft, shy voice.  
  
Smiling down at him, Sam murmured, " Nice to meet you Jayam. Do you think you can help me find a young girl called Saeras?"  
  
Jayam nodded shyly, and pressed himself against Sam, so that the elder woman shielded him. Quietly, Sam gripping her rifle even more tightly than before, Sam and Jayam walked back out into the stifling darkness, the heat of the flames stinging and burning their skin. Sam calculated that they had been walking for over half-an-hour, just on the fringe of the cloud of smoke (Sam couldn't bring herself to make a young boy wait alone outside the smoke, nor could she let him walk through the thick of the smog either), although in reality it had only been ten minutes, calling Saeras' name, when she finally heard a young girl's voice:  
  
" Ruthie? Ruthie, is that you?"  
  
The form of the young child she had seen earlier, emerged from the smoke, doubled over and coughing. It was what followed her that concerned Sam; the unmistakable shape of a Lordling on his horse was stalking the child.  
  
" Jayam, go to that rock, over there, and be very, very quiet," she hissed to him. Dumbly, the boy nodded.  
  
Sam watched him go, and then, as Saeras stumbled forwards, eyes wide and brimming with tears, she swung the girl around, placing herself between her and the Lordling, her rifle coming up. Her lungs were burning with the need for fresh oxygen, and her grip was shaky at best, but Sam had never felt so alive before.  
  
The Lordling emerged, scowling as he caught site of Sam. Just behind him, she thought she could make out the shapes of more Lordlings, and her heart sunk like a stone in a stream.  
  
" Give the girl to me, wench," the Lordling commanded in a deep, powerful voice- and Sam nearly rolled her eyes at the clichéd moment.  
  
Sam raised her gun; the Lordling raised his crossbow, and arched his eyebrow.  
  
" You think you can best me, woman?" he asked in a cold, soft voice, that in any other place, on any other day might have reduced Sam into a quivering mass of fear. But not today; not after all the crap she had gone through in the past few days to help save a planet.  
  
" Think really isn't a strong enough word," she hissed back, her finger inching towards the trigger. " I'm one of the Chosen, you ugly son-of-a- bitch. I've killed Gods before. You're small fry compared to people like Apophis and Ares."  
  
It was a white lie; Apophis still lived, although Sam had played a part in his death many a time, and it had been Jolinar that had killed Ares all those years ago, not Sam.  
  
More forms appeared from the darkness, and Sam took a step back, forcing Saeras to move away, out of fire.  
  
" You lie," the man said simply, " A woman is no God-slayer. Give the child to us."  
  
Why they wanted the child was anyone's guess, and the last of her strength fading fast, Sam cocked the trigger, and released it, firing a few rounds into the air. The horses whinnied and reared, and the Lordlings glanced fearfully at one another.  
  
" Fine," Sam hissed bitterly, the world swaying now, " You want Saeras? Come and claim her."  
  
Several of the Lordlings surged forward, and Sam cocked her rifle at them, and shutting out her emotions, if only for the moment, she fired at them- bullets sprayed across the air, slamming into their chests and shoulders- the men groaned and slipped from their horses, crumpling to the ground. Fear overtaking her, Sam fired again, and neat, black-red round holes appeared in their foreheads.  
  
The sound frightened the horses- they reared back, and turned, charging back into the thick cloud, and Sam coughed weakly, her lungs rattling. Her face felt oddly hot, and the world was looping in wild circles as a yawn tore itself from her throat.  
  
Her legs quivered, and Sam collapsed bonelessly to the floor, Saeras and Jayam- the little boy had rushed back to Sam at the sound of gunfire- whimpering. Just before her eyelids closed and darkness stole her, Sam thought she saw the blurred form of an elder woman standing over her, murmuring;  
  
" That was a foolish and brave thing of someone of such importance, such as yourself, Chosen One, to do. I expect we shall expect great things of you and your companions…"  
  
*  
  
Daniel bit back a whimper of pain as he slipped for the fifth time from the sharp, jagged rocks to the outcrop the Lordling had come from. His head throbbed cruelly, his cheeks too hot and his throat swollen, and the skin on his feet felt raw and torn.  
  
" Godamn it," he hissed as he tumbled backwards through a thorn bush, his arms flailing, pain and panic searing through his mind. After his encounter with the Lordling, Daniel had decided to climb the rock-face- mainly because from a military vantage point, it would give him the opportunity to scout for anymore Lordlings, but also because he wanted to check out the scenery.  
  
Unfortunately, the rock-face was steep and slick with moss, and thorn bushes grew in between the craggy rocks.  
  
Daniel's light blue eyes flickered upwards briefly; in his corner of the planet, it was now twilight, and the sky was a heavenly hazy blue-purple, just on the cuss of night, the sky only lit by the swollen pale moon. What concerned him, though, were the purple-black clouds swiftly gathering, and the breeze- only gentle at the moment, but it was growing stronger by the second.  
  
Gritting his teeth, his eyes stinging with unshed tears of pain and frustration as he jolted the wound he had received earlier on, Daniel reached up, his torn, bloody and bruised fingers curling around the root to a tree; it snapped like rotten bark, and Daniel fell back, skidding down the rock-face on his stomach, tearing open his earlier gash and old cuts he had received when he had tried to step back onto his platform.  
  
When he came to a halt, he swore and hissed loudly, balling his hands, and rolling gingerly onto his back, his chest heaving.  
  
" Godamn it, I won't cry," he snarled at the purple-black clouds, " I won't."  
  
But the tears came anyway- hot and fast, slipping down his flushed cheeks, and his swollen throat constricted, his breaths coming out as odd, sobbing gasps. For a brief second, his arms reached up, as if expecting the phantoms of SG-1 to reach forward and comfort him, and then, as the sky broke out into a roar and lightening tore across the blue-purple haze, his arms fell back down- one falling across his face- as he sobbed angrily.  
  
God-damn it! Why is it always so hard? The bitter thoughts flashed through his mind as quickly as the white-hot lightening streaked across the sky, hitting an unfortunate tree below, and a harsh smile crossed his face as he remembered saying it once before, over a year before:  
  
" God-damn it Jack! Why is it always so hard?"  
  
Jack winced as Daniel slammed the pint of beer onto the coffee table, amber liquid spilling over the side, but said nothing until Daniel had slumped back into the couch, his face set dejectedly, eyes brimming with tears. Over two weeks ago, Sha're had died- the victim of a staff weapon intended for the Goa'uld who had taken her, Ammaunet- and now it seemed as if Daniel was finally coming to terms with it.  
  
He reached out and took Daniel's hand, and turned it over, tracing the lines etched into the palm of it. Daniel watched him suspiciously through dilated eyes, before finally slurring;  
  
" What? Have you gone all New Age on us now, Jack?"  
  
O'Neill smiled faintly, his cheeks dimpling, warm brown eyes crinkling. He held up Daniel's hand, and showed it to the younger man.  
  
" This," he said, tracing the life line, " This is why it's so hard. Because it's life. It's the biggest, hardest, worst, strangest, longest and the best battle you are ever going to fight. It's the only battle truly worth fighting."  
  
Tears- hot and angry- filled Daniel's eyes as he snatched his hand away.  
  
" That wasn't what I meant Jack, and you know it," He snarled, blue eyes frosty.  
  
Jack nodded calmly, his forefingers coming up to massage an oncoming headache, and smiled sardonically.  
  
" Then tell me what you meant Daniel. I'm not a psychic, and I'm sure as hell not Carter. I don't always know what you mean, so humour me."  
  
Daniel seemed to slump even more, a bitter smile ghosting his face, even as his brow crinkled with misery, the burn from the ribbon device that more prominent than before. He stayed so silent for so long that Jack was afraid that he had driven the young man away.  
  
" Sha're," he finally said. " I searched for her so long- and I never, ever forgot her…isn't that worth something Jack?"  
  
Crap, Daniel had gone back to his usual cryptic talk.  
  
" Yes, Jackson, it is." Jack said, a bit harshly.  
  
Daniel's face grew red, and scrunched up even more.  
  
" Then why was she taken away from me? I did all I could to find her, and they took her away from me!" He slammed his fist against the table, making it shake, as his own shoulders began to shake from silent sobs, " God, why?"  
  
This time, Jack had a true answer- one, that perhaps Carter and Fraiser would have most definitely not approved of; one that Daniel would hate- but an answer nonetheless.  
  
" I can tell you why," he said, raising a beer bottle to his lips, " You and me and Carter and Teal'c- we're the butt monkeys of the Universe. We're the fucking big cosmic joke Daniel."  
  
Cold, icy rain splashed on his face, and Daniel gave a croaky, rasping laugh, his lungs rattling, muck pouring down his throat.  
  
" Yeah," he said wistfully do the thundering sky, " SG-1 sure as hell are. Butt monkeys of the Universe…yeah!"  
  
Uncomfortably, he pushed himself off from the muddy patch he had been lying on, and looked back up the rock-face; at the most, it was only another ten feet or so- a climb he could easily make within ten minutes.  
  
Wiping his bloody hands against his muddy, damp fatigues, Jackson reached up, his hands seeking blindly for a natural handhold other than wood, and he raised his left leg, bracing it against the rock as the rain stung his back and chest, the wind whipping his hair to and fro.  
  
Ten minutes later, he pulled himself up over the cliff-face using his elbows, wheezing and rasping, his dirty tee-shirt clinging to his skin as he shivered. His body throbbed- the skin on the palms of his hands, elbows and feet raw from the many times that he had fallen climbing the rock-face.  
  
He gave a half-crooked grin at the small craggy tree at the top, placing his hands against the soft bark ( his hands stung and he gave a soft grunt of pain) and leaning against it, his eyes heavy and tired.  
  
Just visible from the outlook was the miniature waterfall that had babbled gently when he had been sleeping in the pool, blotches of white-green in the moonlight heralding the blossoms that had floated on the surface to the pool. Daniel inhaled sharply as his eyes fell onto the natural indention in the land, where he and the Lordling had battled. Unable to kill him, Daniel had settled for binding his arms with the vines at the pool, stuffing his mouth with one of his dirty socks- inwardly, he grimaced at the thought. The man had gained consciousness several hours ago, his eyes dilated and wild- the Lordling had a concussion- as he struggled against the bindings.  
  
From the outcrop, he was just visible- a dark blur against the pale blur of the tree trunk.  
  
The Giant Falls were only at the most, another day's walk away, and if he ran, only eleven hours. Daniel's eyes shifted to the left, and he froze like a rabbit caught in headlights.  
  
" Oh crap," he softly whispered.  
  
To the far left, where the deserts and forest had lain, a swarm of black and white moved in synchronisation, their weapons glittering in the shafts of moonlight. They were too far away for Daniel to make out properly, but he estimated, that at the least, there were one hundred men, and at the most, three hundred…and- his heart fell into the pit of his stomach and bile rose up his throat-… and they were all heading his way.  
  
He wrapped his arms around his waist, eyes wide with pure and raw fear. At the speed they were marching, the soldiers would easily catch up with him in a day if he didn't leave now.  
  
Turning on his heel, using the tree to brace himself, Daniel glanced from the soldiers, and then back to Giant Falls, remembering his earlier establishment.  
  
If I run, which is laughable to say the least, it'll take me about eleven hours to reach Giant Falls…he peered at the white-water rushing over the cliff-top, crashing into the rocks miles below, and winced, before inwardly adding; Hopefully, there'll be some natural caves behind the water, and assuming I don't kill myself trying to get to them, I can hide in them. Hell, maybe I'll even find the ring.  
  
The threat of the marching Lordlings growing that more prominent, Daniel stumbled and slid back down the rock-face, jolting bruises and old wounds. When he reached the ground at last, he flung one look of pure desperation over his shoulder at the approaching Lordlings- on ground, they looked like a miasma of black- and began to run.  
  
*  
  
The East Village of Under-Earth  
  
  
  
Like their cousins- the villagers of the North- had fled to the sea, the people of the East had fled to under the Earth years before Ares was due to send the Lordlings to punish them, using the Old Naquada mines to access the caverns underneath their barren land. The Transport system had been moved with them, and a tunnel of barbed trees was created, alerting them to friend or foe. It was this advanced planning that had saved them from the Lordlings- when the Goa'uld's servants had arrived, they had merely used their Illumini ( an energy weapon that used magnets and electricity with deadly accuracy) to cause a cave-in, slaughtering the Lordlings. But still, the Eastern people had been afraid of what they would find on the surface of their planet, and instead of returning to their natural habitat, they had expanded their city, living like moles. Shortly after they had killed the Lordlings, a woman named Theresa Pahl had found her way into the city, and had collapsed at their feet and had given them a ring that she said they were to look after until the ones it was intended for, came to collect it. She had died soon after, and over a thousand years later, the Eastern people were still waiting.  
  
Pippin Aragon raised his Illumini and stared at the dark-skinned man with the golden mark, a frown etched into his young face. His heart thumped with fear; the very idea, notion, that there could be Lordlings lurking in the back of the cavern filled him with dread- for as Chieftain of the Village of Under-Earth, it would be his duty to lead his people on a search for them. Much to his shame, Pippin wasn't like his father Gallivan- he wasn't brave or fearless, and the only way he had become Chieftain had been because he was the son of a former Chieftain.  
  
The dark Lordling answered, his deep voice jerking Pippin back to the present rather unpleasantly:  
  
" I assure you, Aresians of the East," the man said gravely, " I am not a Lordling. My name is Teal'c of Chulak, and I am one of the Chosen prophesised to find a ring." Teal'c inhaled suddenly, sharply, and added quietly, " I am also a Jaffa."  
  
Next to Pippin, Argas Black started, jerking his weapon up, his fingers itching towards the trigger. Grimacing, Pippin laid a gentle hand on Argas' arm, and muttered lowly; " I still draw breath Argas. Don't shoot him."  
  
The younger man glowered, but did as Pippin commanded anyway, lowering his weapon angrily. Teal'c arched an eyebrow.  
  
" You say you are Jaffa?" Pippin asked, his stomach beginning to churn in terror. If this man were a Jaffa, then that meant that the Lordlings had finally received their symbiotes- they'd be far more stronger and harder to kill. Teal'c nodded once.  
  
" But I am also a Chosen One," he added, seeming to sense Pippin's doubt.  
  
Pippin scowled.  
  
" How do I know you are telling the truth?" he snarled, " For all I know, you are a creative liar."  
  
A very faint smile ghosted Teal'c's face.  
  
" Jaffa have no time for creativity," he murmured. Teal'c remembered how many years ago- just shortly after he had joined SG-1 – he had asked O'Neill and Hammond if there were any Tau'ri rituals he could undergo to prove where his loyalties lay, and he suddenly added; " You still doubt me. Do the Aresians have any rituals I can undergo, that will prove I am who I say I am?"  
  
Pippin froze; the Aresiasn of Under-Earth, as it were, had special drugs and herbs that were very powerful hallucinogens, and despite the controversy that had surrounded them when they were first used, were often used as a truth serum, by making the recipient believe that they were undergoing a trial involving their loved ones. Behind him, he could the others murmuring, and he sighed heavily.  
  
" We do," he finally said grudgingly, " A truth serum. You would be willing to take it?"  
  
Teal'c spread out his arms in the universal symbol of peace and surrender, and nodded.  
  
" If it helped me find my team mates," he said in a low voice, " I would walk to the ends of the world and back again."  
  
Pippin arched an eyebrow, impressed. The man reminded him of Gallivan; his father had died five years earlier, and even now, Pippin missed him sorely.  
  
" So be it," he whispered, half-amazed at the Jaffa's sheer gentleness and bravery, "Restrain him and take him to the Halls. Argas, go and fetch the truth serum."  
  
Pippin watched quietly as Handalf and Gadmeeras, the two Primary Guards to his throne, stepped forward, glowering silently at Teal'c. They roughly pulled his arms behind his back, using thick, strong vines to bind his wrists together. Finally, Handalf stepped away, and took Teal'c's staff weapon, running his hands up and down its' frame, admiring the weapon. Pippin smiled feebly, and still feeling the tendrils of his earlier fear, cried;  
  
" To the city!"  
  
*  
  
" I think he's coming to."  
  
It was cold here; dark, and his body throbbed, muscles oddly stiff.  
  
Blearily, Jack O'Neill shivered and tried to open his heavy eyelids- and immediately regretted the action as bright, harsh light filtered down to stab at him cruelly, a low groan rising up his throat. He went to close his eyes again, deciding that his version of heaven was far more impressive than the Powers That Be, when a young female voice stopped him;  
  
" Oh no you don't, not after I wasted two days of hunt to look after you…"  
  
His head throbbed cruelly, and Jack opened his eyes another precious centimetre, scowling up at the young girl. She looked like a pastier version of Sha're- her skin almost toad-white, hair wild and black, falling in twisting curls over her shoulders, and her eyes were a deep brown, framed by fat, long eyelashes. A memory flickered in the disorientated Colonel's mind, and he mumbled his surprise;  
  
" Ariel! You're Ariel…"  
  
Surprise flickered across the girl's face, and she moved out of his line of vision and although Jack couldn't make out what she was saying, her voice was questioning. To his left, another voice- young and male- replied;  
  
" He must be delusional. Either that, or Sun-sick."  
  
Jack blinked and forced himself to sit- the world spun dizzily, his stomach churned as he dry-retched, lungs and throat burning painfully. When his vision cleared, O'Neill could see two young men, one middle-aged woman, and the young girl who had first spoken.  
  
The girl was frowning now, anxiously twisting her hair, pawing through her small canvas bag- chunks of pink coral fell out, amidst dead fish, and…  
  
O'Neill's eyes widened.  
  
" My radio!" he croaked, " But I thought I saw it smash against the rocks…"  
  
The young girl looked down at the radio she held in her hands with mild surprise, and then after a moments hesitation, she handed it to Jack ( in the corner, the two young men stiffened, eyes watching him suspiciously).  
  
One eyebrow arched, Jack turned it over- if he could ignore the seaweed and slime covering it, his radio was in perfect condition.  
  
" It isn't a weapon," he reassured the anxious boys, " It's a communication device…but…" he thumbed the button, and received a long burst of static, "…I can't quite seem to raise my friends."  
  
His stomach gurgling, Jack swung his legs over the cot he had been lying on, and then stared, unable to believe that he hadn't questioned it before. He was in a large white room, various strange devices littering the curved shelves. It was what was to the left to him, though, that made him blink and rub his eyes with the back of his hand. There was a glass wall, which, under normal circumstances, wouldn't have been all that unusual- but it was the fact that they were under the water, orange-gold fish swimming past in large groups, followed by lithe girls carrying spears, dressed in what Jack presumed was their version of a wet-suit, a blue-green…bubble… encircling their heads- although the currents of the water tossed their hair about, as if unaffected by the strange bubble.  
  
This is definitely too much for someone as old as me, he thought with an inward sigh.  
  
" Okay," he said edgily, " Where am I? Because the last thing I remember was that I was drowning…and just what the hell is that blue thing around their heads?" This, he punctuated with an accusing finger.  
  
The elder woman smiled, as if Jack amused her, and stalked the length of the room, her feet marking the fine, white sand acting as the floor to the building.  
  
" Such questions," she tutted, her eyes creasing, " And we don't even know your name, or you, ours." She reached forward, grasped his unwilling hand, and shook it. "My name is Arris Frau. I am Chieftain to the Village of the North Sea, and this-" she gestured to the youngest of the men, a short, thin child with curly dirty blonde hair and brown-black eyes, "-is my son, Artemis. He's a scholar." She waved at the other two to join her, and continued, " Lya Tore is the huntress who rescued you, and-" Arris' eyes suddenly grew dark , sparking with the mildest of irritation, " Toros Thessil is the engineer who repaired the damage you- however innocent your intentions- did." A mischievous smile curved her lips, not quite reaching her sad, haunted eyes. " And before I answer your questions, do you mind me asking who you are?"  
  
Blinking wearily, Jack quirked his lips at her.  
  
" Colonel Jack O'Neill, ma'am," he muttered tiredly, an ache tugging at his heart. Under the sea, the absence of the rest of SG-1 seemed that more notable. Silently, he wondered how the rest of the team were doing, whether they had found their rings (his fingers slipped up to his chain and fondled the ring there), whether they were hurt…his throat tightened; whether they were even alive.  
  
Don't go there O'Neill, he silently warned. You've gone there far too often, and look how grey your hair is because of it.  
  
Arris' eyes twinkled.  
  
" Well, O'Neill," she declared, " Welcome to the Village of the North Sea. As I said earlier on, Lya rescued you when you were caught in the snares our ancestors left behind to protect the ring." Her dark eyes fell upon the milky-white gem, sparkling dully in the dappled blue-silver light from the sea. " And I see you were successful in the retrieval of it…which means you must be one of the Chosen my son is so infatuated with." For a brief moment- so brief Jack wondered if he had imagined it- her eyes dulled sadly. " We had begun to give up hope. Aft-"  
  
Her voice was drowned out by a sudden siren, wailing and shrieking down the lengths of the white halls, the glass seeming to shake from the sheer pitch of it. Jack grimaced as his ear-drums began to throb in protest, his head pounding relentlessly, and gingerly pressed his fingertips against his ears, dulling the sound.  
  
" What is it?" he yelled, his voice strangely hoarse and rasping, even to his own ears- Toros face was ashen, his eyes wide and wild as they stared out of the glass wall, to one of the many domes, glowing in the murky darkness of the sea. Confused, Jack followed his gaze- and froze.  
  
The sandy floor underneath a particularly large glass dome- and if he squinted, he could just make out what looked liked scholars gathering papers, racing and dashing about like lemmings- was shaking, spider-webbed cracks suddenly appearing along the side of the glass.  
  
A seaquake, Jack inwardly cursed, Great. Just great.  
  
" The library!" Artemis cried suddenly, even as Toros was racing across the room, slipping what looked like an overly large metal collar, and thumbing a button on the side- a blue-green shield shot up over his face. Jack arched an eyebrow.  
  
" I'm needed in the second dome, Arris," he cried to the Chieftain, " If this one goes, then all of them will."  
  
Jack straightened, and Arris looked up in alarm.  
  
" All of them?" she asked in utter disbelief.  
  
Toros nodded shortly, his expression grim.  
  
" I've been having trouble with the barriers for some time," he explained anxiously- underneath them, the floor began to shake and Arris gave a cry of alarm. Jack stumbled backwards, jarring his hip against the table he had woken from, his face creased into a frown.  
  
The shaking subsided, and O'Neill glanced up to see Lya slipping on a collar, Artemis not far behind her. A faint crack had appeared in the glass, and water was beginning to trickle down the side of the glass-wall. Toros had slipped through a blue-green barrier that was acting as a door, and from the corner of his eyes, O'Neill watched as he disappeared in a run down the length of the hall, to help the scholars.  
  
Then the ground started shaking ominously, a low rumble building up around them, and Jack forgot about Toros. A blur of movement caught his eyes, a cry of alarm building up in his throat, even as he began to dart across the sandy floor, to where Arris, Artemis and Lya stood.  
  
" Watch out!" he snarled- and the crack marring the glass plane seemed to implode- to fall in on itself- and the tsunami of water that had been pushing against it, jettisoned into the room. Jack flung himself at the trio, crashing into them and knocking them to the floor. The water shot over their heads, slamming into the metal table, sending it careening into the nearest wall.  
  
" Holy shit," Jack whispered- the glass around the hole was slowly beginning to crack; if it continued, then the wall would shatter, and if they weren't crushed by the sheer pressure of the water, then they would most certainly drown.  
  
Lya shakily stood, water pooling around her ankles, and helped Jack to stand- his body felt stiff, knees aching mercilessly from his untimely flight across the room. Still looking dazed, the young girl handed the Colonel a collar, her dark eyes tracking the water currents, and the people now frantically rising up from the various domes.  
  
" Slip it on and press the button underneath it," she instructed dazedly. Jack did as she had instructed, and instantly, a green-blue shield shot up around him, humming quietly.  
  
Arris and Artemis followed suit, slipping on their own collars, and Arris' haunted dark eyes flickered up to the glass wall in alarm. The rumble had gotten progressively louder, and shards of glass were beginning to rain upon them, cutting their skin.  
  
" This place is no longer safe," Lya shrieked to Arris. She grasped the Chieftain's hand, and pulled her forward, towards the blue-green wall, and with an apologetic grimace, pushed her into it. There was a brief spark, and then the elderly woman stumbled through, into the hallway, beckoning to her son, Lya and Jack.  
  
His brow creased, Jack followed.  
  
*  
  
The city was impressive; wooden sculptures of men and women gazed out reproachfully at Pippin, Teal'c and the others, and strange purple-black flowers twisted around barbed archways. Tiny yellow-orange lanterns smouldered, hanging from vines, and cast a soft golden glow onto Teal'c's skin, light dancing in his eyes as he took in his surroundings.  
  
Finally, they came to a halt in the largest cavern Teal'c had seen yet; one that seemed to stretch into eternity itself. The man Pippin had called Argas waited for them by a heavy oak door- Teal'c felt his symbiote stir in anticipation, and his tattoo creased in two as he frowned mightily.  
  
Pippin gave a discreet nod, and Argas opened the door, the wood creaking loudly as it grated against soft, damp earth. Unconsciously, Teal'c inhaled sharply; inside, partly hidden by the flickering shadows, he could make out a large, well-muscled man, standing by three, frightened, wild-eyed children with frizzy, dirty brown hair. Their large doe brown eyes swivelled to Teal'c and Pippin, and focussed on Teal'c's tattoo- one of them- a young girl- gave a little whimper of fear.  
  
The men who had tied Teal'c's wrists together led the large Jaffa into the room, Pippin and Argas on their heels. The 'room' was a small, dark, dank cellar- several lanterns strung together to provide light, and a pail of murky water rested in a shadowed corner. As Teal'c was forced to his knees, his eyes flickered up to the children, and he studied them curiously:  
  
There were three of them; two boys and one girl. Their olive faces were pale and sallow from little- if any at all- sunlight, their large, dark eyes bloodshot and sunken. Wild, curly brown hair- light brown in the girl's case- fell to grubby, bony shoulders. The children wore beige grubby tunics, and trousers that hung baggily from them, the frayed, ragged hem pooling over their feet. They looked- to 'coin' a Tau'ri phrase, as O'Neill would have said- atrophied and half-starved.  
  
Suspicious and wary of the fact that he had been the one to ask for a trial to prove that he was one of the Chosen, Teal'c growled at Pippin;  
  
" What is the meaning of this?"  
  
Pippin smiled placidly.  
  
" They are children from the outskirts of the city," he began in soft, gentle tones, "And they are to be part of your trial."  
  
As if on cue, Argas stepped forward, an earthenware bowl held gently between cupped hands. Sloshing from side to side, in the bowl, was a repugnant looking liquid- a weak grey-yellow slop with large brown chunks that Teal'c didn't particularly want to think about, floating on the surface. The ex-First Prime sniffed it suspiciously as one of the men tilted his head back, digging fingers into the hollows of his cheeks, forcing his jaw open; it smelled of rotten eggs and burnt plastic, and inwardly he grimaced.  
  
It tasted even worse; of earth ( which explained the brown chunks), dirt, and it was bitter. With difficulty, Teal'c swallowed the insipid liquid, his symbiote protesting, and his stomach churning and gurgling menacingly.  
  
Almost immediately, it began to burn the back of his throat, and the world began to sway, chaotic bright colours rushing around him. An animal grunt of pain and nausea tore itself from his throat, and he became aware that he was sinking back onto his ankles, his eyelids sliding shut as darkness overwhelmed him.  
  
When he opened his eyes again, over three hours had passed, and sweat pearled his forehead, heat rushing over him. The world seemed disjointed, looping from side to side, a strange hum building up in his ears. His eyes flickered to the left, to where the children had stood before- the world danced, and his stomach churned in confusion, before finally settling to a faint gargle.  
  
Teal'c froze, and he felt his eyes widen in shock and surprise, and he leaned forward tentatively, his tattoo creased neatly in two, his head tilted slightly.  
  
Although he had never seen them before in his life- for Teal'c had been in his late sixties when they had been children- they looked so much like their older counterparts, that Teal'c recognised them immediately- and despite the impossibility of it, Teal'c knew it to be the truth:  
  
The children, wild-eyed and scared, standing before him were no other than the rest of SG-1.  
  
*  
  
Daniel leant back against the rocky wall, closing his eyes and heaving in air in great, sobbing gasps, as he tried not to look down at the clouds of mist, or the drop that accompanied them. He slid down the wall, his back- sore, bruised and scratched- whimpering, rather than screaming, its' protests. Although he couldn't be sure- his mind was too fogged for anything to make sense anymore- Daniel had been on the run from the advancing army of Lordlings for at least two days. Not once had he stopped to sleep or rest- at first, simply because if he stopped then the Lordlings would easily catch up with him, and then later, because he was scared that if he stopped, he wouldn't be able to move again; his legs and thighs burned and ached, and Jackson was sure that the gash across his chest was infected.  
  
Daniel winced as sharp rocks dug into the palms of his hands, and reluctantly, he opened his eyes again, his heart thumping with fear; in the corner of his eyes, he could see a blurred black mass moving towards the footpath he had taken to climb the Giant Falls.  
  
" Damn," he muttered, biting his lower lip anxiously. He had decided to climb the Giant Falls mainly as he was sure that the vast clouds of steam would hide him, and at the very best, that the gargantuan waterfalls would somehow intimidate the heavily armed men. He snuck another glance at the men massing at the base of the mountain- it had taken him over a day to reach the ledge he stood on now, and that had been at a frantic scramble. Some of the more wiry soldiers were easily clambering up the trail, their malevolent eyes sparkling with anticipation and mirth…Daniel suddenly frowned as a large group of the soldiers- they had found and freed the Lordling he hadn't had the heart to kill several hours ago- suddenly disappeared from view. Where had they gone? His heart clenched in the irrational thought that they had somehow taken a short-cut, and were going to come at him from all sides.  
  
" Calm down," Daniel hissed to himself, his voice tinged with barely restrained panic, as he gasped and panted, the world swaying dangerously; " There were no other entrances or paths. You know that!"  
  
And he did; he'd spent two solid hours scouting around the base of the cliff that led to the Giant Falls, hoping- praying- that he would find a nice, easy, simple route that led to a nice, dark, well-hidden cave, or secret tunnel, that the Lordlings didn't know about.  
  
And of course, there had been none; only a steep, jagged, dangerously narrow path that wound around the cliff, leading towards the thundering waterfall, and the white-water river that raged below.  
  
As if expecting a secret cave or tunnel to appear out of nowhere, Daniel glanced around him, cringing when his red-rimmed, tired blue eyes fell upon the black mass- even from here, he could just about make out their faces; some were old, with grey hair, others young boys; the Lordlings must have set up a community after Ares had died.  
  
Which means, Daniel surmised with a grimace, that there must be a community of female Lordlings- unless the men can produce their own offspring without…assistance.  
  
One of the Lordlings grinned nastily up at him; they were catching up, and Jackson started hyperventilating all over again; pressing himself against the rocky wall, as if that could hide him somehow. He shot one last, desperate look at the waterfall thundering away next to him, and then took a double take.  
  
Some fifteen feet below him- half-hidden by the thick mist and the silvery-blue water- was a jutting ledge that led to what looked like a cave.  
  
He bit his lip anxiously, and then glanced back at the grinning Lordlings; they carried crossbows and swords. He carried a pistol ( one that was dangerously close to running out of bullets) and that was it.  
  
" Damn," he swore again. If he jumped, he could slip and kill himself; but if he stayed, he'd be sliced and diced into ribbons by the wicked-looking blades the Lordlings carried.  
  
Damned if you do, damned if you don't, Daniel sardonically thought.  
  
Swallowing hard, Daniel peeled himself away from the wall, barely noticing the quiver of protest in his thighs, or the burning pain racing down the base of his spine, and slowly, cautiously, he crawled to the edge of the outcrop. His arms trembled a bit; his vision blurred, and a bead of sweat trickled from his forehead, and fell, lost in the thick clouds of steam.  
  
Several feet away from him, he heard the sound of a crossbow being prepared.  
  
Daniel closed his eyes, not wanting to see the tremendous drop, and swung himself over the ledge; his heart plummeted to the base of his stomach, and to make up for it, his stomach soared up into his throat, as he plummeted the fifteen feet. It wasn't until he opened his eyes a split second after he had let go, that he realised how much trouble he was in; the angle was wrong- he wouldn't land safely…  
  
As the ground rushed up to meet him, his yells snatched away by gusts of air, Daniel thought about the pointlessness of it all; forever trying and forever fail-  
  
His thought was cut off as blind, searing pain shrieked and coursed through his mind, down his spine and legs.  
  
And then there was nothing.  
  
*  
  
He was running from someone- a man cloaked in black.  
  
And he had no idea why.  
  
" Jack! Teal'c! Sam! Anyone! Help me!" Daniel stumbled over hills, scraping his knees, pain coursing through his body.  
  
Behind him, the black shadow laughed cruelly, spurring him on. For hours, he ran, slipping on wet dewy leaves, a thunderous roar- his blood rushing to his ears- deafening him, making his head throb; making him whimper in pain.  
  
Ahead of him, something glittered, and Daniel frowned, forcing his already aching legs further on, gasping and panting for precious air.  
  
" Daniel!"  
  
Cloaked in the shadows were SG-1; Sam was beckoning to him, Jack twiddling with a golden ring in the dim light, and although Teal'c wasn't smiling, the Jaffa looked happier than Daniel had seem him in a very long time.  
  
Flinging one last, desperate look over his shoulder, Daniel raced forward.  
  
Jack smiled at him.  
  
" Daniel, do you receive me?"  
  
Daniel's eyes flickered over to Sam in surprise, his eyebrows knotting in confusion. What kind of question was that?  
  
Still, the Major was smiling beguilingly, her blue eyes wide and sparkling joyfully.  
  
The sudden pain surprised him; Daniel opened his mouth to scream, but all that came out was a faint gurgle of protest, and agony; torturous, icy- cold, hot pain flaring across his chest. Instinctively, Daniel looked down.  
  
A sword blossomed from his chest, thick red blood dripping from the end of it.  
  
Daniel whimpered, and looked up at Jack, his mouth dropping open even as blood began to rise up his throat and pour from it-  
  
Daniel jerked awake, instinctively rolling onto his side as his stomach began to church, his chest burning as he dry-heaved. His head throbbed and ached, and as he raised his hand gingerly to the back of it, he could feel a sizeable lump, thick, warm liquid seeping through his fingers, dripping to the already damp floor.  
  
Woozily, he sat up, the world spinning and looping cruelly, nausea rising and falling, like the tides. Slipping off his glasses momentarily, he dug the heel of his hand into his eyes, biting back a whimper of pain. When the nausea, the weariness and the magma-hot pain had diminished somewhat, he let his hand fall limply to his side, and slipped his glasses back on, glancing around dazedly.  
  
He was on the ledge; that much was obvious- a little tacky brown-red pool in the corner marked his arrival, literally. The cave itself wasn't dark; there was a jutting outcrop inside, and fire blazed from a pool of methane, sending light flickering across the cavern walls, chasing the shadows away. For a terrifying heartbeat, he thought that the Lordlings had discovered him, and were waiting for him to awaken, so they could kill him, but a cursory glance around the cavern revealed nobody at all.  
  
" Daniel, it's Sam. Do you copy?"  
  
The tinny crackle of Samantha Carter's voice from his hand radio surprised him, and fumbling around him, Daniel found his Mag-Lite, miraculously despite all that had happened to him so far, and thumbed the switch. Immediately, soft yellow light illuminated the cave and his hand device, lying next to a small rock, the case cracked, but apart from that, fine.  
  
Slowly, the world looping excruciatingly, nauseatingly, Daniel inched over to where it lay, thumbed the switch, and breathlessly said;  
  
" Sam? Is that really you? Over."  
  
There was a pregnant pause, and then Sam's excited voice filled the cave;  
  
" Oh God, at last! You're the first I've managed to raise so far, Daniel…" the Major paused a second- and Daniel frowned. She sounded a little croaky…and was that somebody coughing in the background? " You sound a little out of it Daniel. Are you okay?"  
  
" I'm fine," he mumbled back, peering cautiously outside the cavern; the Lordlings were closing in on where he had been before; he must have been unconscious for only an hour at the most. " I was …asleep. How are you?"  
  
He swung his Mag-Lite around the cave, and shadows danced out of harm's way, the vat of fire blazing and twinkling magnificently.  
  
Wait a minute…Twinkling?  
  
Apologetically, Daniel thumbed the switch to the radio and murmured, " Something's just come up. I'll speak to you later. Over." With a contrite smile aimed at the radio, and Sam, so many miles away, Daniel turned the radio off, and stuffed it into his backpack, slipping the canvas knapsack onto his sore, tired shoulders, and absently massaged his temples, hissing when his fingers brushed over the matted, bloody wound there.  
  
Inching closer to the fire, Daniel stared intently at it, frowning as it twinkled and sparkled; there was something in there… He shuffled closer, the heat of the flames burning his overheated cheeks, the golden light dancing mockingly in his eyes.  
  
" What are you?" Daniel muttered, more to himself than to the strange sparkle in the fire, and tilted his head. As luck would have it, a tongue of golden-orange fire leapt out, allowing Daniel to see into the inferno:  
  
It was a ring; a golden band, with a rich, deep red gem- probably garnet- seated atop of it. A bubble of hysteria and relief rose up Daniel, and he stepped away, trying to swallow back the laughter, and strangely enough, the tears.  
  
" God…it's about god-damn time…"  
  
And then reality returned with a fierce snap; he had to get the ring out of the fire-pit…and he didn't have anything he could wrap around his hand to protect it. Daniel paled, his eyes flitting back to the ring, hidden within the fire.  
  
" Damn," he swore, biting his lower lip anxiously. " Damn."  
  
His body tensing, Jackson shuffled back to the inferno, and stretched out one shaking hand, cringing when a tongue of fire reached out to lick it. He lowered his hand, stared at it; it was trembling- and angrily, he clenched it, digging his nails into the palm of his hand, leaving little crescent- shaped welts.  
  
Taking a deep breath, he unclenched his hand, and raised it again. The ring was resting- thankfully, it wasn't actually stuck- on a small rock within the conflagration.  
  
Squeezing his eyes shut, Daniel's hand shot through the flames- instantly, mind-numbing, burning pain shot across his skin, and he was dimly aware that he was screaming and gasping, tears running down his cheeks. His fingers curled around the ring, and with a sobbing gasp, he snatched his hand out from the fire, the ring dropping to the floor.  
  
He was shaking violently, his head pounding and shrieking cruelly, ears hot and his eyes red; his hand was scarlet, already beginning to blister. Bile rising up his throat, Daniel sunk to his knees, cradling his burnt hand, staring at the wide gold band, lying, smouldering on the cool, dank floor.  
  
" Let's hope you were worth it," he whispered. In his own world of pain, Daniel barely noticed the approaching footsteps and the burning eyes, until a second too late.  
  
" Chosen," a voice snarled in the shadows, " It would appear you have failed your appointed task."  
  
Daniel looked up sharply- pain seared through his skull, racing down his spine and across his burnt hand. Standing, half-cloaked by the shadows, were the missing Lordlings he had seen earlier on.  
  
*  
  
The Lordlings:  
  
  
  
They hadn't always been supporters of Ares; in fact, over a thousand years ago, when their race, the Soarens, had been at its' peak, they had vehemently opposed the Goa'uld, forming alliances with the very first known group of Tok'ra. And then Ares, God of War, had attacked their planet, enslaving their children and slaughtering their women. The men of Soare had had very little choice but to agree to become Lordlings to the God, Ares- men, waiting to either be made into Jaffa or Goa'uld. At first, they had hated their new-found positions, but slowly, bred into each generation, they began to like it; to look forward to becoming true servants of their God.  
  
So, years later, stuck on another planet altogether, Ares' orders, and then death had sent them into a tailspin; they had divided into four, searching for the mysterious hidden rings. From what little Ana knew, the group that had gone North had drowned, the group that had gone East had been crushed, and the group that had gone on to the South hid in the nearby caves, waiting for the Chosen to arrive.  
  
His group- the group that had gone onto the West of the planet- had actually found the ring, and believing that it would help bring back Ares from the dead, they had hidden and guarded the ring.  
  
Ana scowled viciously as he watched the crumpled form of the young man stir and rise at the metallic voice coming from his dark green jacket. They knew of the Aresians prophecy; they knew that this man was one of the Chosen sent to retrieve the ring- their spies has forewarned them of his arrival when the Stargate had activated.  
  
The man stumbled about the cave mumbling and cursing to himself, and then came to a halt as he spied the ring in the bowl of fire. Ana's scowl deepened. It had been Rutski's, not his, idea to let the man live to find the ring;  
  
" To prove he is the enemy," Rutski had claimed, despite Ana's protests.  
  
A howl of pain and a metallic clatter startled the young Lordling, and he glanced up sharply, drawing his sword- forged from Naqada and silver- out from its' leather sheath. Next to him, he could see Rutski, Milo, Kin'ta, and Gryff doing the same thing, rising from their haunches, dark eyes narrowing.  
  
With a dark smile, the title, "Chosen,", on his lips, Ana emerged from the shadows.  
  
*  
  
His heart racing, Daniel fumbled at his hip, forgetting momentarily about his hand, and drew out his pistol, curling his fingers around it; instantly, pain raced up his fingers and he let out a fresh howl, the pistol dropping to the floor, as he stared at his throbbing hand; in his haste, he had picked up his gun with his burnt hand.  
  
Two of the Lordlings darted forward, their crossbows and swords aimed at his chest and throat respectively, and pinned his arms behind his back, kicking his legs out, so that he fell to his knees. Angrily, Daniel bit back the grunt of pain, and glowered at the man who had spoken.  
  
The Lordling smiled darkly at him, and reached down, plucking the pistol from the floor. Daniel's eyes widened, and the Lordling grinned knowingly, and then flung it off the ledge; in the corner of his eyes, Jackson could see it spiralling down to the river below, swept away by the force of the waterfall.  
  
" Do you want this?" The man continued, and bent down to pick up the golden ring, not even flinching when his skin began to sizzle from its' heat.  
  
Daniel averted his eyes, his forehead puckering, lips pursed tightly in suppressed panic and anger.  
  
" I didn't think so," the man commented, and pocketed the ring. Daniel's heart sunk; everything he had gone through had been for nothing. Sending Daniel a casual scowl, the man turned on his heel, and said in a conversational voice to his colleagues; " Kill him. I don't care how." The he was gone; the shadows swallowing him.  
  
The men pulled Daniel abruptly to his feet, and Daniel's heart began to race and thump in fear as they dragged him backwards, towards the edge of the outcrop. Behind him, he could hear the deafening thunder of the waterfall, and he began to hyperventilate, his breaths coming out in short, sobbing gasps.  
  
" Please," he begged incoherently, " don't do this…please…no, don't!"  
  
The largest of the two held him still, as the other pulled away, unsheathing his sword. With a wicked smile, and a glint in his dark eyes, the man thrust his arm forward- blind, searing pain raced across his shoulder, and blood began to seep through his torn tee-shirt, and Daniel's wounded cry pierced the thundering of the water.  
  
His eyes flickered down to the stab-wound, and then he twisted his head, faintly, to look behind him; the back of his tee-shirt tented out, the tip of the sword barely visible. The world swayed, and blood rushed to his ears as he turned his gaze to the men.  
  
" No," he pleaded belatedly as they let go of his arms and pushed him backwards; Daniel's arms flailed out, his feet kicking out at the rocks, and the second after he fell off the ledge, plunging down to the icy cold river below, Daniel fainted.  
  
*  
  
She stood, dressed in a plain blue dress, in the kitchen, an oven glove protecting her hand, by the open furnace, the rich aroma of vanilla and nutmeg chocolate cookies wafting up her nostrils. With a smile, Samantha Carter flipped her long blonde hair over her shoulder, and took out the baking tray, gingerly touching one of the cookies; it was soft and warm- unusual for the teenager, considering she could quite easily burn boiled water.  
  
In the distance, a door opened, and Sam smiled, her cheeks dimpling; it would be her Mom and Dad- Mark had soccer practice.  
  
" Sam?"  
  
Her father poked his head around the door, his blue-grey eyes sad and haunted. Tear-tracks marred his unusually pale face. Sam frowned.  
  
" Dad…?" she glanced behind him, expecting her Mom to follow. " Where's Mom?"  
  
Her dad took off his hat, and held it awkwardly between two shaking hands. Without looking at her, he said in a quiet voice;  
  
" Sam, sweetie, there was an accident…"  
  
Sam's bright blue eyes widened, and the baking tray and the hot cookies fell to the floor with a loud clatter.  
  
" No," she heard herself whimper from a far away distance, tears brimming in her eyes.  
  
" She was killed instantly…"  
  
" No!" He was wrong…he had to be wrong. Her Mom wasn't dead; her mom couldn't be dead…Mom's never died…at least, not until their children were really old…  
  
Her cheeks flaming, tears prickling her eyes, Sam rushed past her father, and stormed into the hallway, and from there, outside, half-expecting to see her Mom, smiling gently at her, like she always did.  
  
There were two grim-faced Air-force officers. Instinctively, Sam glanced at their ranks; Colonel George Hammond- a friend of her father's- and Airman Simmons- a new recruit fresh from the Academy, no doubt. Colonel Hammond shot her a sad, sympathetic smile, and Sam whimpered.  
  
" I'm sorry Sam-" her father emerged from the house, behind her, and tried to hug her- Sam skipped away from him, her face twisting in rage.  
  
" Don't!" she shrieked, her mind forming a conclusion scarily quickly, " It's your fault she's dead! I hate yo-"  
  
Her cheeks too hot, her head pounding, Sam jerked away from the dream with a whimper- instantly, a cool, calming hand was placed on her bare belly, and an even cooler, damp cloth was swiped across her face.  
  
Cringing at the raspy moan that was emitted, Sam's eyes flickered open. A blurred woman smiled in relief down at her, and dabbed the cloth across Sam's cracked lips.  
  
" At last," she said with a friendly smile, and Sam felt her brow crease in confusion.  
  
" Where am I?" she croaked, her voice a mere, rasping whisper. In the corner of her stinging eyes, she could see a small, blurred form move closer to her, almost protectively. The woman shot the form a smile.  
  
" My cave," the woman said simply, and bent low to help Sam sit- her throat constricted, and the Major squeezed her eyes shut, coughing harshly, her lungs rattling. When she had opened them again, the woman was frowning.  
  
" You helped defend our young from the Lordlings- in fact, you braved the fires to rescue my son and Ruthie's sister," the woman turned around, and Sam could just make out Ruthie's slender form- the girl was bent over a pewter pot, stirring something that smelt suspiciously like leek soup mixed with Cheese and Macaroni MRE- Sam's stomach churned- and seeing the Major awake, she beamed, her cheeks dimpling, resting the spoon against the side of the pot so she could dart over to the Major.  
  
" Thank-you," Ruthie simply said, glancing momentarily at her sister, Saeras- the younger girl's face was crimson and her small, delicate hand was wrapped in bandages. " If it weren't for you, my sister would be nothing but a waiting fancy woman for the Lordlings."  
  
Her mind spinning, Sam frowned in confusion.  
  
" I don't get it," she said slowly, " Why would the Lordlings want to make her into a…fancy woman?"  
  
Ruthie and the woman shared a dark look, and the young boy- Jayam- who had been rolling a glass marble against the floor, trying to knock Sam's hand radio to the cold stone-grey floor, fell silent.  
  
Finally, Ruthie spoke;  
  
" The Lordlings attack our villages every five rotations of our planet around the sun, and take the youngest of the prettier of our girls. It's how they keep their kind going; they use the girls as potential mothers."  
  
Sam paled, the churning in her stomach surging and swelling into a full fledged rumble, and her pale eyes snapped to Saeras; the girl smiled feebly at her.  
  
" Oh my god," Sam whispered after an eternity of appalled silence, " This has been going on ever since Ares was killed?"  
  
The elder woman and Ruthie nodded in synchronisation.  
  
" Usually, we send the younger girls to the caves to hide, but this year, the Lordlings took us by surprise," Ruthie expanded.  
  
Sam glanced around her, and said, rather than asked, softly, " And I'm in one of these caves…"  
  
The elder woman nodded, and then as Ruthie returned to the pan, she shuffled forward, tilting Sam's chin up, and forcing her jaw open. Ruthie passed her a jug of the steaming liquid, and then with an apologetic smile, the woman poured the strange concoction down Sam's throat. Despite it's vile smell, its' taste was satisfactory- tolerable; it tasted of cheese and leek, with white tasteless chunks- the macaroni. Trying not to gag, Sam swallowed it with difficulty, the flush across her cheeks diminishing somewhat as warmth pooled in her belly.  
  
My stomach…she looked down, and saw that her black tee-shirt had been tucked into her sport's bra, exposing her mildly burnt stomach- a large, white bandage that she recognised from her field MediKit, had been wrapped around it. Her gaze flickered up to the woman, and for the first time since she had awoken, she asked carefully;  
  
" Who are you? Your voi….you spoke to me before I passed out, just after I'd killed the Lordlings."  
  
The woman nodded.  
  
" I'm Amba," she finally said and Jayam glanced up, smiling at his mother, " And as I told you earlier, this is my son, Jayama- although he seems to prefer Jayam. My spouse is…" Amba trailed off, and her eyes reddened, tears glistening in the corner, "…I'm sorry…my spouse was the Chieftain of our village; the Village of the Southern Mountains- but the Lordlings killed him a few days ago." She shot Sam a side-look, and added for her benefit, " When they stormed our village for children. You've been unconscious and battling fever for three days."  
  
Sam felt her eyes widen at this new piece of information, and tentatively, raised one hand, and pressed it against her cheek- it felt hot to touch, fever colouring it.  
  
There was silence after that for a while, before Ruthie finally spoke;  
  
" I'm going to check on the other caves, Amba…" her face tightened for a brief second, misery flashing across her young face, "…to see if my parents still draw breath."  
  
Amba nodded curtly, and lifted Jayam from the floor, and after a second's hesitation, handed Sam the hand-radio device the toddler had been attempting to destroy.  
  
" When it looked as though the fever was about to claim you," she said suddenly, her lilting voice echoing around the cave, " We went into your bag in search of linctuses or a potion that could cure you. I'm sorry."  
  
She disappeared into the far corners of the cave with Jayam, Saeras following her reluctantly; all three seemed to think that Sam needed some time to herself.  
  
Not that I'm complaining, Sam thought with a smile, and swung herself from the makeshift cot she had been lying on. Clearly not understanding its' purpose, Amba and Ruthie had used her six-foot long sleeping bag as a mattress, and her flak jacket as a pillow. Her fatigues trousers were rolled up in a corner on the floor, and instinctively, Sam glanced down, and then stifled a snort of laughter; somehow, Ruthie and Amba had managed to wrap her green camouflage rain Mac around her legs and hips, so that it acted as a bizarre skirt. Her boots had been lain by her trousers, and her thick ankle-length socks had been rolled down to accommodate a bandage wrapped around her ankle. Holding up the rain Mac ( it had began to slip rather embarrassingly), Sam stopped by her folded trousers, and gently unfolded them, slipping them over singed, bruised and scratched legs and thighs, tugging off the Mac when she had zipped them up. Next came the boots; she slipped them over her socks and bandages, lacing them tightly, and glanced across the room. Her boonie rested by her bag, and she swiped it up; underneath was her P90, hidden from prying eyes and curious fingers.  
  
With a grim smile, she lifted it, stroking the metal surface, and then very quickly, attached it to one of her hooks on her fatigues, so that it hung from her hip. Lastly, she picked up the hand radio, and stared at it.  
  
If she had been unconscious and feverish for three days, then she wouldn't have been able to answer the Colonel, Daniel or Teal'c, should any of them had tried to contact her; and neither would Amba or Ruthie- they didn't even know what her Mac was for, let alone the hand radio.  
  
With a frown, she thumbed the button, and tried for the second time that week;  
  
" Colonel O'Neill? It's Major Carter. Do you copy?"  
  
Half an hour later, she was sitting on the edge of her cot, one leg hooked over her knee, her face creased in frustration; she hadn't been able to find a signal for the Colonel or Teal'c, but Daniel, who seemed to have a clear signal, wasn't responding;  
  
" Daniel, do you receive me?"  
  
She waited a few minutes, and then tried again, " Daniel, it's Sam. Do you copy?"  
  
There was an excruciatingly long pause, and then suddenly, her radio crackled into life;  
  
" Sam! Is that really you? Over."  
  
Sam grinned wickedly, and punched the air in triumph. At last! She'd managed to contact another member of the team; albeit a member of the team who sounded a little out of it at best.  
  
You're not exactly in top notch condition either Major, she reprimanded herself silently.  
  
" Oh God, at last! You're the first I've managed to raise so far, Daniel…" her throat tightened, and screwing up her eyes in displeasure, she doubled over, her lungs rattling as she coughed forcefully. Damn, she snarled inwardly, my flu's returning…  
  
Hoping that Daniel hadn't heard her coughing, she asked brightly, " You sound a little out of it Daniel. Are you okay?"  
  
She stared down at the radio expectantly, her fingers inching up to pinch the bridge of her nose, as if to massage away her oncoming headache.  
  
" I'm fine…" came back the mumbled answer, and Sam rolled her eyes; Daniel was lying- his voice was far too croaky and muffled for someone who was meant to be fine. " I was asleep. How are you?"  
  
Oh, that was below the belt Daniel…Sam smiled, and was about to respond to Daniel's brotherly concern when the radio crackled back into life, once more;  
  
" Something's just come up. I'll speak to you later. Over."  
  
Was that a touch of trepidation in his voice? Annoyed, Sam snarled into the radio;  
  
" Daniel? Daniel!"  
  
She leant back against the wall, uncrossing her legs, and stared at the radio, aghast; there was no signal.  
  
Daniel had turned his radio off.  
  
*  
  
Teal'c stared at the children before him, brutally aware that they were terrified of him, and studied their faces;  
  
O'Neill was undoubtedly, at eleven years old, the eldest and at five foot, the tallest of the three; he had a mop of light red-brown hair, russet coloured eyes, and rosebud lips. He was also scowling to cover up his fear. Samantha Carter was next; at eight, she had long blonde, wavy hair that fell to her hips, and wide blue eyes framed by a set of thick brown eyelashes stared at him fearfully as she raised her thumb and began to suck it. Finally came Daniel Jackson; at six, he had a tousled mop of sandy blonde hair with tints of russet in it, wide grey-blue eyes that had yet to darken to bright blue, a small, snub nose, red rosebud lips. Freckles peppered his young, golden-hued face, as he instinctively crept behind O'Neill and Major Carter. With a deep scowl marring his face, Teal'c twisted to his left to glare at Pippin and Argas- and then took a double take; Pippin and Argas had been replaced by General Hammond and Doctor Fraiser.  
  
" What kind of magic is this?" he asked slowly, dimly; he knew it wasn't magic, but it was the only word he could think of in his drugged state. General Hammond smiled kindly, sadly, and said softly;  
  
" I assure you this isn't magic, Teal'c."  
  
" Then this is really SG-1?" Teal'c asked doubtfully. They both nodded, and Teal'c turned back to stare at them, still frowning. He was meant to be going through a trial, wasn't he? Which meant that the trial somehow involved SG-1…  
  
" I'm afraid we have some bad news, Teal'c," Janet's soft, authoritative penetrated through the fog muffling his brain, and Teal'c looked up sharply, an accusing glare burning in his eyes.  
  
" SG-1 are sick, Teal'c," General Hammond interjected. " They contracted a disease on the planet you're on, and they're dying."  
  
Teal'c's eyes flickered accusingly back to Janet.  
  
" Is there nothing you can do to save them?" he asked in a menacing growl.  
  
" I'm afraid not." She said very softly, her eyes suddenly glistening- and then she paused, frowning. " But there is something you can do." She gestured behind her, and the cavern suddenly twisted, changing until all that stood before him were a jewel green field, white-blue flowers glistening under the rays of Ares's two suns.  
  
" In the field there's a special three leafed plant that can cure the disease the children have. If you look for it, and find it, you can save the children…"  
  
Teal'c scowled at her suspiciously, but merely nodded. Hammond and Fraiser smiled, and then vanished; Teal'c whirled around in surprise- the children had vanished as well, leaving him alone in the field.  
  
Remembering Janet's last few words, Teal'c spun around, and sank to his knees carefully, squinting at the grass for the three-leafed clover that she had spoken of. The world swaying, his symbiote hissing and nausea rising up his throat, Teal'c began to search for a cure of which he could use to save SG-1.  
  
*  
  
After the Jaffa had awoken from the drugs he had been given, and Pippin had instructed him, the Chieftain had left the cell, with the three, terrified children. The elder two – Mary and Robin- had been sent scurrying back to the asylum where they would hopefully, be given some Urt-root soup for their troubles; their parents, Mischa and Warren had died several years ago, leaving them in the capable hands of the Council. The youngest, Beguile, had been kept behind and left outside of the cell; mainly because Pippin had seen the Jaffa's concern for the youngest of the three, and he hoped to use this to his advantage later on.  
  
Now, well over a day and a half later ( Beguile, in that time, had been taken to the asylum for a meal and a night's rest, before being brought back to the cell), he stood outside the cell, wearing the same robes he had worn the day before, a long, sharp knife held tightly in one hand for protection. Inhaling sharply, he pushed open the door, and entered.  
  
Argas was standing, obscured by the shadows, in the corner of the room, holding Beguile close to him, and out of harm's reach. Pippin arched an eyebrow as he raked the small cell with his gaze; the Jaffa was crawling, on his hands and knees, around the room, scrabbling weakly at the dirt. Blood oozed from various cuts, and his stomach growled loudly in hunger, but still the Jaffa didn't sit back and rest his wounds.  
  
" He has not stopped searching for the supposed 'cure' since you left the room," Argas announced dispassionately. Pippin's eyebrows flew into his hairline.  
  
Perhaps, he thought happily, he is who he claims to be after all…  
  
Seeing his Master's barely veiled surprise and delight, Argas added almost spitefully; " However, Pippin, Jaffa are a cunning race. Perhaps he has already worked out that this is a test of his loyalty to those he holds dear. Perhaps he is pretending."  
  
Pippin's heart sank; for that one moment, he had allowed himself to believe the Chosen had finally arrived, that his planet's quandaries were over at last- but as always, Argas was right. Jaffa were crafty; were cunning- and were capable of lying and pretending if they thought it would help them in anyway.  
  
" Perhaps," he agreed in a cooler tone, " and perhaps not."  
  
His eyes flickered over to Beguile, and a sympathetic smile for the young boy crossed his lips;  
  
" I believe I have found a way to test this theory," he finally ventured. Argas looked up, curious.  
  
" Give me Beguile," Pippin instructed. With a gentle push in the small of his back, Beguile was sent stumbling towards the Chieftain. Quickly and viciously, Pippin wrapped a thin arm around the child's neck, another arm pinning his body to his own. Feeble and weak, the child tried to struggle from the grip, faint mewls of panic hissing through clenched teeth. Pippin reached behind him, and retrieved his knife, and held it against the boy's pale, slender, frail neck. The boy stopped struggling, and Argas looked up in alarm.  
  
" Pippin…?"  
  
Pippin gestured to Teal'c.  
  
" End the visual hallucination," he commanded.  
  
With a sigh, Argas fisted his hand, curling it around the scruff of the Jaffa's tee-shirt, pulling the Jaffa to his feet. Teal'c wobbled, the world swaying, and blinked in confusion at Argas.  
  
Then finally;  
  
" Janet Fraiser."  
  
Argas cringed, and Pippin hid a smile; it was mean, but he knew how much his second-in-command hated being mistaken for a woman. Since the introduction of the truth serum, candoris, however, Argas had been mistaken for being a woman on a regular basis.  
  
" Yes Teal'c," Argas gave a long-suffering sigh, " It's me. Janet. You're too late. Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter died. But…" Argas twisted to where Pippin and Beguile stood. " Daniel Jackson is still alive…albeit, he won't be for very long."  
  
Teal'c looked up at Argas warily.  
  
" Is there a purpose to this line of conservation, Doctor Fraiser?" He asked in a gravel voice.  
  
" End Daniel's suffering Teal'c," Pippin called suddenly, holding up the knife, " the Aresians have promised to give you the ring you need if you end his suffering." The Jaffa's forehead creased in confusion, and inwardly, Pippin cringed as Teal'c raised dark, suspicious eyes to Pippin.  
  
" General Hammond," he said at last, " Should you not be searching for another cure, rather than convincing me to end Daniel Jackson's life?"  
  
Argas' lips quirked into a smile, and Pippin shot him a deadly glare.  
  
" I am still Chieftain of this village," he reminded him with a hiss; Argas straightened and turned back to Teal'c. The large Jaffa was pale, beads of sweat rolling down his face, soaking his tee-shirt- one of the many side effects of Candoris.  
  
" It's too late Teal'c," Argas said sorrowfully- Teal'c's dark, furious eyes snapped back to the younger man. " We've tried everything and everybody…" On a flash of inspiration, Argas added, " Even the Tok'ra agree there's nothing that can be done to save him." When Teal'c had been unconscious, he had often murmured strange names, such as Daniel Jackson, Major Carter, O'Neill, and the Tok'ra; Argas had asked him of their importance when Teal'c was feverish, much to Pippin's approval.  
  
" Please Teal'c," Pippin added softly, " You'll be ending his suffering."  
  
Ignoring the shaking boy he held, Pippin watched as Teal'c staggered precariously across the room, his pale, grey face glistening with exertion, eyes narrowed in frustration. When he were a few inches away from Pippin and Beguile, Pippin gave him the long, sharp knife, and stood away from the boy. In a mellifluous and pleading voice, he whispered:  
  
" Please; end his suffering."  
  
*  
  
" Wrong way!" Jack gasped out as a swell of water surged forward, knocking him and Arris onto their backs. Cold, icy water crashed over him, bruising his skin and pinning him down- Jack, forgetting that he wore a collar- instinctively held his breath…and then blinked in surprise when the water didn't reach his face. A pale hand broke through the water, and Jack gratefully grasped it, allowing Lya to pull him to shaky feet.  
  
Arris, to his mortification, was already on her feet, her tunic and trousers soaked through, clinging to her skin. The water sloshing against her calves, Arris struggled against the undercurrents, moving frustratingly slowly across the hall to the door they had opened, and the panel next to it. Her fingers flew across the buttons, and immediately, a blue-green wall shot up, and the flow of water stopped abruptly. For a minute, Lya, Arris and Jack stared at one another; Jack shivering faintly. They had been wandering the various halls in the village of the North Seas for several hours; Artemis had joined Toros three hours earlier, helping the engineer to free the trapped scholars- already, Arris, Jack and Lya could see thin, pale figures- some wearing collars, some sharing ( one would wear the collar for a minute or so, before slipping it onto their partner)- writhing and wriggling their way up to the surface.  
  
Unfortunately, however, the scholars weren't the only ones they had to free; whereas most of the village- or city, as Jack preferred it to be called- was fine, structurally, people had panicked and had rushed to the city halls, believing they would be safest there. Jack had stumbled upon them two hours ago, and ever since then, they had been searching for the safest exit.  
  
" Will we die?" Jack cringed at the question, and twisted to glare at the particularly hysterical young man who had uttered it. Young mothers were paling, their faces creasing into heavy frowns, their children clinging to them, and the air was thick with unease.  
  
"No, we won't die," Jack snarled emphatically, and then glanced desperately at Arris.  
  
" Colonel O'Neill is right," she added in a harsh and strident voice, " We will not die. Not today; not tomorrow. Not for a thousand years."  
  
Jack arched an eyebrow in approval, and then, as a flash of inspiration struck him, he shuffled through the water, over to Arris. She looked at him questioningly, but said nothing.  
  
" Arris," Jack began a little breathlessly, " Your people haven't always lived under the water, have they?"  
  
Arris frowned.  
  
" No, of course not," she replied haughtily.  
  
" Then how did you get to the water? To the domes?"  
  
Arris frowned disapprovingly at him, and in a scorching tone, snapped;  
  
" Is now really an appropriate time for a history lesson O'Neill?"  
  
Grimacing as he jolted his earlier wounds, Jack shot back:  
  
" What I mean is if you were building underwater domes, then you must have built some kind of…" Jack made a face as he racked his mind for the most appropriate word, "…system that allowed you to move relatively quickly from one place to the other."  
  
Lya looked over at them, and wringing her wet hair, casually said; " The collars O'Neill. They allow us to breathe underwater-"  
  
Jack opened his mouth to interrupt, but was beaten by a reluctant and confused Arris.  
  
" But not forever, Lya. They only allow us to breathe a few hours at the most- certainly not enough time to build an underwater city." Arris turned back to Jack, her dark eyes boring into his own. " What is your point, O'Neill?"  
  
Inwardly, Jack let out a crow of triumph.  
  
" It's just that, Arris," he allowed himself to grin, " You have to have had some kind of Ring Transport System, or something to that effect, if your people wanted to build this cit without actually drowning. We can use it to escape, if it exists."  
  
Arris stared at the pale-face, bruised man before her, and felt the faintest of smiles touch her face. When she had been a small carefree child, who had only been interested in playing in the fish corral, or exasperating the librarians at the Scholar Halls, her mother- Chieftain Saab Frau- had told her a tale of the dilapidated hall that scholars, hunters, huntresses and farmers alike very rarely ever used unless necessary; in the year that the Domes had been completed, and the Aresian from the South- Jolinar- had gone back to her tribe, the Chieftain of the time- Aegis Dour- had come across the Ring System they had used to transport the materials to and fro. When she had gone to use it, a blue- green barrier- not unlike the ones they used to hold off the water- had shot up, giving the Chieftain a mild electric shock. In the thousand years that had passed, the Aresians hadn't been able to figure out a way to disable the shield, or to remove the platform. Arris' intelligent eyes strayed to the boots and the ring hanging from O'Neill's neck, and her smile widened. Jack caught her smile, and half-shocked, arched his eyebrow and spluttered;  
  
" You mean I'm right? One exists?"  
  
Arris nodded.  
  
" In the Hiatus Halls," she murmured. " There's an exit that no-one ever uses, simply because it is thought that anyone who touches the shield guarding the platform, will drown in the ocean." She turned in the water, faintly alarmed to find it had risen to her thighs, and faced the group of people, raising her voice to accommodate them. " We have an escape plan, my people. If you don't mind, follow us to the Hiatus Halls, please."  
  
Arris turned back to Jack, and grasped him by the elbow, pulling the Colonel through the ice-cold water. Grimly, she observed how there was now an unnatural blue tint to his lips, and his pale, bruised skin was goose- pimpled, forever trembling as he shivered.  
  
" This way," she whispered, and down the hall, and then turned abruptly to the right, away from the Inner Halls, and down to the Hiatus Hall. A blue- green wall still stood, a half-formed glass wall behind it, from where Toros had been trying to repair the seemingly irreparable damage. They carried on walking for fifteen minutes, past the Underwater Egress, until they came to a hall, marked with a metal plaque that read:  
  
' Cruci Hall- the first hall used by Northern Aresians to build the Village of the North Seas'. Ignoring the plaque, Arris thumbed a button on the side-panel- a metal door slid back, revealing a stone-white platform that looked like it could take eight people, protected by a blue shield.  
  
Jack squinted suspiciously at it; this shield was somehow different from all the others in the village; it didn't hold the same…fluid…quality that the other shields did. Cautiously, he broke free from Arris' grasp, and ran his fingertip over the shield; it hummed angrily, and sparks shot out, stinging his fingers.  
  
" Damn," Jack swore viciously, pulling his fingers back. He recognised the shield from over a year ago, when he, Carter, Daniel and SG-3 and various other teams had been stuck on Hathor's home-world. One of her supporters had captured Daniel and SG-3, holding them hostage as an incentive to draw the then-Captain Carter out. They had knelt ( Daniel grimacing in pain from his damaged leg) behind a thick impenetrable shield; a lot like the one he stood before now.  
  
The shield wasn't Aresian; it was Goa'uld….which meant that something was powering it.  
  
Knowing Arris wouldn't welcome the suggestion warmly, he made a face, his brow furrowed, and turned to face her, trying to look like Daniel did when the archaeologist was trying to win over a new race;  
  
" Arris," he began warily, " Does this Hall have any connection at all to the power supply?"  
  
Arris blinked.  
  
" Of course," she said softly, " They all do."  
  
" Can you disable it?"  
  
Arris narrowed her eyes.  
  
" Yes I can. But why would I want to? If I disable it, the water that the other shields are currently holding back will crush us, and if not that, drown us." She said slowly, carefully.  
  
" Arris," Jack said, " If you don't disable that shield, then you won't be able to use this platform, and we'll all die anyway."  
  
There was an uncomfortably long silence, and then Arris broke away from Jack's accusing glare, sluggishly moving across the waterlogged room, back to the panel. There was, Jack realised suddenly, a small red button underneath the one she had thumbed earlier on.  
  
Arris closed her eyes, and pressed the button; there was a low whine, and then the lights flickered, casting them into semi-darkness (their collars provided light, as did the Goa'uld force-field). A low rumble built up from the hall Jack had first awoken in, and the floor shook menacingly. Behind him, the force-field flickered, and then disappeared, and Jack took his chance- he pushed five women, two small children, and a young man onto the platform. Light filtered down from the roof, and a low whine filled the room, even as the metal rings began to crash down around the frightened group. There was a flash of bright, white light; and the rings and the people disappeared, leaving the platform free.  
  
Just as he and Daniel had done in Seth's hide-out, Jack and Arris ushered another group of people onto the platform; Arris was looking wildly behind her- the low rumble was growing louder and more violent. The Rings crashed down over the second group, whisking them away to safety; and without even thinking, Jack pushed Arris, Lya, and six other people onto the platform. Arris shot him a wounded look; but then the rings hurtled down, over and around her, and she, too, disappeared, leaving Jack by himself.  
  
As the world was plunged into darkness, a wall of water burst through the Hall, slamming into him, pushing him back, onto the platform, and disabling his collar. Jack only had time to blink and splutter in surprise as a bright light hovered over him, and rings crashed around him, and then all was dark…  
  
*  
  
The Village of the Western Falls:  
  
  
  
" Pow! Pow! Die, Lordling evil, die!"  
  
Tom Bells grinned wickedly as he curled back his fingers in the imitation of drawing back an arrow on a crossbow, and ducked as a pebble whistled sharply past his ear. In the distance, a woman shrieked angrily;  
  
" Jacob Cumblethorn, put down that sling, right now, before you take out someone's eye."  
  
It was the season of Solstice; the best season in Tom's opinion, as the Elder's often left with all the young girls, to hide until Winter came around. All of which meant that he, Jacob, Daane, and Simon had the grassy meadows and the cold, icy rivers to themselves; and, if they were lucky, the entire summer to do nothing but play.  
  
Tom grinned again, his green-hazel eyes sparkling in childish delight as Jacob sulkily lay down his slingshot, and sprang from the wild green rushes, sunlight dancing over his mop of auburn hair. He tackled the younger child to the ground, and they rolled, laughing and shouting at the same time, throwing mock punches, down the dewy wet hill that led to the Placid Rivers of the Western Falls. The hill evened out; Tom rolled over onto his back, looking up at the sky and the thick white clouds, and then scowled as Jacob aimed a kick at his belly.  
  
" That's against the rules," he lisped angrily, sitting up to glare at the younger boy. But Jacob wasn't paying attention to him anymore; the other's boy black-green eyes were focussed on a distant point; wide and scared, and he was beginning to scrambled backwards, rearing up like a garter snake. Frowning heavily, Tom grabbed Jacob's arm, and snapped childishly, his cheeks flushing; " That was against the rules, Jacob!"  
  
Jacob whimpered and turned to look at Tom, with wide, frightened eyes.  
  
" There's somebody down there," he whispered. Tom turned his gaze past Jacob, and down to the river, and then froze;  
  
Jacob was right.  
  
A man, his face torn, badly bruised and deathly pale, his lips blue, lay, crumpled over the sharp rocks, face upturned to the sky. Blood trickled sluggishly from his shoulder, pooling in the water, and the man's left hand was badly burnt- bright red and blistered. Water was rushing at him, buffering his body back and forth, against the rocks. Tom heard a little boy give a moan of terror, and realised with a shock that it was himself.  
  
" Jacob," he said mellifluously, " Get my mama."  
  
Jacob turned and fled, darting up the hill, his shoulder-length sandy brown hair flying and his slacks flapping in the wind as he ran. Tom watched him momentarily, then dashed down to the river, kicking off his plimsolls as he ran- they bounced off the tip of a rock, landing amongst the grass. He skidded to a halt, dropping to his knees by the stranger, and stared at him uncertainly.  
  
What if he were a Lordling? Although Tom didn't know much about the Lordlings, he knew that his people feared them greatly- that the Lordlings were the reasons the elders hid the girls during the sun drenched Solstice months. His brow creasing, hazel eyes narrowing, rosebud lips pursing, he gazed suspiciously at the man; he seemed slim, but he wore strange clothes- a black torn tunic, and green-brown slacks. On his back was a large, bulging bag- much like the ones the druids of his village used when they travelled to the City of Ares- and strange items spilled from it.  
  
Having decided the man wasn't a Lordling, he timidly shook the man's shoulder; the man's bloody arm flopped into the water, and lay there like a dead thing.  
  
*  
  
Angie Bells sighed softly as a ray of gold-orange sunlight broke through the thick white clouds, catching her son's retreating back as he played with his best friend, Jacob Cumblethorn. In her mid-forties, most of Angie's good looks had withered with age; and lines of worry and stress creased her forehead, and made her normally large amber eyes seem small and beady. Grizzled, grey hair stuck out at odd angles, the majority of it swept into a pony-tail with a plain blue ribbon. Narrow, pale lips thinned as Baby Clara began to wail, and Angie threw down the tunic she had been washing in the pail of river-water, crossing the room surprisingly quickly on her dumpy legs. Her husband, Richard had left a few weeks back with the rest of the Elders, taking with him her eldest daughter Sophia, and her foster daughter- her niece ( Mary, the child's mother, had died giving birth)- Mary-Anne, to hide from the Lordlings, should they attack the village. Inwardly, Angie gave a little shudder. The Lordlings had attacked the year before and had taken Lucy Cumblethorn's youngest daughter, Susan, and Angie's youngest sister, Beth. Richard, knowing how Angie felt about the Lordlings, had offered to take Baby Clara with him, but Angie had refused- she had lost enough from the Lordlings- and she refused to let them break the only true time she had to bond with her new baby.  
  
Now, as she gazed down at Clara- a pale-faced child with dark hair, and astonishingly bright eyes the colour of the sky- she wondered if that had been a foolish decision; Sophia had been taken into hiding as a baby, as had Mary-Anne, and Angie had bonded with them fine.  
  
" Hush, Clara, hush," she whispered soothingly, stroking the babe's forehead, frowning faintly as she probed the child's gums gently. The child was teething- she could feel the hard bulge of a tooth beneath the gums- and because of this, Clara was also slightly feverish. Clara screwed up her face, blue eyes welling up with tears, and Angie felt her own face tighten with panic and worry; the Lordlings had keen hearing- especially for the cries of young babies and girls.  
  
" Shh, my Clara, shh…" she cradled Clara, holding her to her breast, stroking the soft, dark hair, and began to sing an old song her own mother, and her Grand-dame had sung when she was a sprightly child;  
  
"Ma'at heru…ma'at korash…couie y akahn,  
  
Ma'at heru; y solee ana Malk es Honeii  
  
Es ana arri, ana arri; y ma'at heru, y ma'at korash  
  
Couie y akahn rek'shol ana Malk es Honeii…"  
  
Although she could never be sure, she had read in one of the Old Scriptures that the song, translated word for word, meant;  
  
" True of voice, true of heart, we are protected,  
  
True of voice; we walk the plains to the land of Milk and Honey  
  
And what comes, will come; we are true of voice, we are true of heart  
  
And we are the protected ones travelling to the land of Milk and Honey."  
  
Either way, the song seemed to have worked, if only for the moment; Clara had closed her eyes, her tiny fingers curling around Angie's thumb. With a tender smile, Angie gently pried them away- Clara gave a faint moan, but didn't stir- and set the child back into her cot.  
  
" My Clara," she muttered to herself, pressing the heel of her hand into the small of her back, " My Clara…the most fierce-some of daughters yet."  
  
Sighing heavily, she lifted the shirt- and then immediately dropped it as Jacob Cumblethorn came tearing up the hill, his eyes wide with panic, her name on the tip of his lips.  
  
" Mama Bells," he gasped out, a tiny arm curling around his midriff as he wheezed for air, " The rivers-"  
  
Angie broke away from the pail of water, her eyes widening in panic; as much as she groused and complained about her son to Lucy Cumblethorn ( as Lucy so often did about Jacob), she still loved little Tom with her heart and soul- he was her only son, as her first-born- a young boy she had named Pasha- had died from Yellow Fever only a few months after he had been born- Angie had thought she would go mad with the grief. Tears beginning to gather in her eyes, she dropped to her knees, grasping Jacob's shoulders firmly.  
  
" Is it Tom?" she asked fretfully, her eyes wide with panic. " Please tell me my little Tommy hasn't been swept into the rivers…"  
  
Silently, Jacob shook his head, and some of Angie's panic lessened somewhat.  
  
" Then what is it?" she asked impatiently; she had work to do and didn't want to waste such perfect conditions for her work trying to coax a terrified young boy from a tree, like she had had to do last Solstice.  
  
" There's a man, Mama Bells," Jacob whimpered, " As white as snow on Winter's Morn…I think he's dead. Tom told me to come."  
  
Angie straightened and released Jacob's shoulders, a hard glint in her eyes; Tom was far too young to see a dead man- let alone a possibly dead Lordling.  
  
" Okay," Angie said softly, and gently pushed Jacob towards Lucy Cumblethorn. "Why don't you go over to your Mama? I'll deal with Tom."  
  
Jacob didn't even hesitate; with a backwards glance at Angie, he scampered over to his Mama, pale-faced and teary-eyed. Setting her jaw, Angie gingerly held onto a tree-trunk for support as she skidded down the muddy, slippery hill. Tom was kneeling a few yards away from the body, shaking and retching. Angie's throat tightened in sympathy for the child.  
  
" Sometimes, Tom Bells," she called softly across the field- Tom looked up miserably- " I curse the day you were born. Come here." The last statement was said softly, motherly, and she held out her arms; Tom reared up and scampered across the field, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his freckled face into her belly.  
  
They stood like that for five minutes; mother and son in solitude- before finally, Angie pulled away, kissed the top of Tom's head, and then said in a firm voice; " Go on. Get home. I'll deal with the man."  
  
She waited until Tom had disappeared over the hill before moving over to the man. He was pale-faced, with short medium-brown hair, and wore strange green-brown clothes, a half-open green canvas satchel on his back, anchoring him to the river-bed. Blood flowed sluggishly from various cuts and wounds, and Angie gave a quiet hiss of combined anger and sympathy as she caught sight of his shoulder; he wasn't a Lordling- although it looked like he had been attacked by one.  
  
To her surprise, his cheeks were warm, and a pulse thumped weakly underneath her fingertips- the man gave a breathless moan, and his lungs rattled ominously.  
  
Angie sank back onto her haunches and bit her lip. The man was still alive- painfully so; but how long would that last? Would she be wasting precious time if she took him back to her hut to care for?  
  
The man moaned again, his hands weakly twitching, and Angie thought, that for one second, that his eyelashes fluttered like a butterfly batting its wings.  
  
" A mystery, you are," she whispered to him, " From the look of your shoulder, the Lordlings attacked you; but the Lordlings aim to kill, not just maim." She grimaced for a moment, and swiped her tongue over dry lips, her decision made; " Well I reckon, if you've survived this long, you'll live another few nights."  
  
Years of managing the house and Tom whilst Richard hid her daughters had given Angie well-muscled arms and a will of steel; bending low, she hooked one arm around the man's tapered waist, the other reaching up underneath his armpit to wrap around the back of his neck. Pulling him from the grip of the ice-cold river, Angie began the walk back to her hut, silently praying that the man would survive for another few nights; that she wasn't wasting time trying to save a thing doomed to die.  
  
*  
  
Teal'c frowned heavily, unshed tears choking him; Major Carter and O'Neill were dead, and Daniel Jackson would be joining them soon if what General Hammond and Doctor Fraiser were saying was true. Hot flushes rushing through his body, sweat coursing his cheeks like tears, Teal'c stared down at the large broad knife he held tentatively between two shaking hands. It was well engineered; with a blade that curved outwards, like the crescent of a moon, ending in a sharp jagged point. The handle was black-gold, meaningless symbols and words engraved down the side.  
  
His black-brown eyes flickered up again, studying the child; Daniel's face had a pallid hue to it- almost sallow- and his cheekbones stuck out severely. His thin frame was not so much as waif, but skeletal, the skin stretched painfully over his tiny bones. Wide, frightened blue eyes stared back him dully, and Teal'c cringed inwardly.  
  
He had failed in his duty to protect the members of SG-1 from the get-go start, when Amah Darner had held a knife to Daniel's throat, to now, when he had failed to find a cure for Daniel Jackson's strange illness.  
  
Janet Fraiser's and General Hammond's pleas echoed hollowly in his mind;  
  
'Please Teal'c, you'll be ending his suffering…Please; end his suffering…'  
  
Teal'c didn't even realise he had taken a shaky step forward until the cell dipped and swayed alarmingly, and a low, wretched groan tore itself from his throat. His symbiote was moving in agitation, hissing and shrieking, his stomach cramping with its' movements.  
  
'You're too late. Major Carter and Colonel O'Neill died.'  
  
Another step forward; Teal'c's eyes prickled with shame, frustration and anger at his own failure. He was a Jaffa- and more importantly- he had once been the First Prime to Apophis. He should have been able to protect them; to find the cure.  
  
After what felt like an eternity, Teal'c crashed to his knees in front of General Hammond, physically unable to walk any further. Daniel Jackson was shaking and crying, tears slipping down his cheeks and dripping from a trembling full, lower lip.  
  
" Teal'c?"  
  
That was Janet Fraiser; her large brown eyes were red and puffy, skin an almost sickly yellow.  
  
Are we all dying?, Teal'c wondered silently. Never, in all my years, have I had such an agitated symbiote as today.  
  
General Hammond's voice broke through his silent reverie; hoarse, but gentle;  
  
" Teal'c, you have to end his suffering."  
  
And for the first time since General Hammond and Doctor Fraiser had told him SG-1 were dying, a low, frenetic rumble built up in the hollow of his throat, and broke out as a wild, bitter, guffaw.  
  
" Teal'c?"  
  
" I know I must end his suffering, General Hammond," Teal'c managed to gasp out, his hands beginning to shake violently, " But I cannot, and I will not. Daniel Jackson is my friend; my family. And no matter how much pain he is in, I will not take the life of a friend." With that, Teal'c threw down the knife General Hammond had given to him; it landed with a clatter at the two-star General's feet. Teal'c tilted his head, looking up at Daniel Jackson, and held out one trembling arm to embrace the boy. In a far softer voice, he added, " Perhaps, Daniel Jackson, we shall die together. Perhaps Death shall be kind and allow our kindred to visit us in our dreams before it claims our souls."  
  
A jolt of pain racked his body, and Teal'c groaned, his eyes rolling up into the back of his head. The last thing he saw before darkness claimed him was General Hammond snapping at Doctor Fraiser to fetch some Suretis herbs and a pail of clean water…  
  
…and then nothing.  
  
*  
  
Pippin stared in amazement down at the Jaffa, Teal'c, a faint smile ghosting his lips. The Jaffa had rejected the knife; had refused to kill the boy, despite his and Argas' pleas.  
  
Teal'c now lay, stretched out on one of the rare luxuries the Aresians of the East had to offer; a bed of silk made from Spider's thread, moss –which had been tied into bunches with yarn- acting as pillows. The local healer, a man named Mhishane Laskc, was slowly dabbing the Jaffa's forehead with a damp cloth, as Argas ground Suretis leaves and Cox-flower petals together into a fine, pale blue paste.  
  
" You are smiling, Pippin," Argas observed almost coldly, the muscles in his arms twitching as he angled the pestle, grinding the lavender Cox- flower petals into a fine blue-purple powder.  
  
" I know," Pippin grinned, gently stroking the little wooden box he held- that his father, Grand-father, and the chieftains before them, had held- his eyes trained on Teal'c's sweaty brow.  
  
" Why?"  
  
Pippin shot Argas a surprised look.  
  
" Why on Ares not?" he challenged. " We have found our Chosen One; he has proven himself by trial."  
  
" A trial that he requested," Argas bitterly pointed out. " A trial that he won because he lacked the strength and will to kill. A trial that he won because he is a coward."  
  
Pippin felt the first stirrings of anger in the pit of his belly. Throughout the five years that he had been Chieftain, Argas had been by his side- had helped him when the west section of the village had caved in, killing two malnourished toddlers; had helped him protect the village from Lordlings in his second year. But as much as he had helped him, Argas had also consistently challenged him; challenged his ideas and opinions.  
  
" He desires your position, sir," Mhishane had once told him, several years ago. "You watch that one; he'll do anything to be Chieftain. He won't kill you, mind; but he'll turn the people against you, the first chance he has."  
  
Another memory stirred in the back of his mind; of his father, on his deathbed, smiling proudly up at his son;  
  
" Some things are worth fighting for, son. Others, dying. Maybe you'll be lucky; maybe you'll find the Chosen One…"  
  
Pippin jerked from his reverie when he realised that Argas was staring at him, expectantly; and in a tight voice, he said;  
  
" You are just sore that the Chosen One is a Jaffa, Argas. It is the fact that Teal'c refused to kill someone he believed to be family- that he was willing to die for, or at least with that person- that makes him the Chosen One. He is not like the Lordlings."  
  
An idea sparked in the back of his mind, and he turned to one of the many guards, and in a very quiet voice, said; " Fetch my cousin Bursa from the Southern Halls, and my official advisor, Darien."  
  
The guard nodded smartly, and turned about on his heel, marching from the room. Argas glared at him suspiciously, but kept quiet.  
  
Finally, after fifteen minutes had passed, Argas barked out; " It is ready, Chief Aragon."  
  
Pippin scowled at him, but accepted the small china-bone bowl from him anyway, adding several droplets of water to the mix, and then pressed his fingers against Teal'c's lips, forcing the mouth to open, and using a ladle, spooned the paste into the Jaffa's mouth, until there was none left.  
  
He sat back on his haunches, and waited patiently. And then;  
  
" You called me, cousin?"  
  
A black look settled over Argas' face, his eyebrows knitting heavily, lips thinning alarmingly- several guards straightened noticeably, glowering at the unofficial advisor. Bursa- a tall, lean man with an unruly mop of ginger-auburn hair and pale grey eyes- looked a little puzzled, Darien not far behind him, clutching an ink quill and a scrap of papyrus.  
  
" I have decided," Pippin announced in a clear, steady voice, " To accompany the Chosen One-" Bursa's and Darien's eyes flickered to where Teal'c lay, "- back to the City of Ares. I therefore, resign from my position as Chieftain, and hand over the title to my only blood relative, Bursa Aragon, my cousin."  
  
There was a long, shocked silence; Argas glowered at Pippin and Bursa, but said nothing.  
  
Then the silence was broken by a low moan, and the sound of someone writhing against silken sheets. Pippin sharply turned around; Teal'c was waking.  
  
*  
  
He awoke to the sound of icy silence; Teal'c let out a low moan, forcing his leaden eyelids to open, and gazed dazedly around him. His throat began to tighten with desolation as memories of being told that his failure had caused Major Carter and O'Neill's deaths, flooded him. And then the reality of the situation hit him like a jolt of electricity; he should have been dead. When he had succumbed to the darkness, he had believed that both he and Daniel Jackson were dying.  
  
" Why is it that I'm still alive?" he croaked weakly. Four men turned to stare at him; there were two that he vaguely recognised, but the others were strangers. One of the men- he had unruly brown-red hair and dark eyes- smiled gently. " I have failed SG-1."  
  
" No you didn't," the smiling man said softly, " It was a hallucination- albeit, a very powerful hallucination- caused by the drug, Candoris." He must have looked puzzled, because the man continued; " Do you not remember, Teal'c? You asked if you could go through a ritual to prove you were the Chosen One. You went through it, and you passed."  
  
Teal'c felt his eyes widen, and he struggled to sit up.  
  
" Then…" he began hopefully.  
  
" That's right; Daniel Jackson, Major Carter and O'Neill are not dead. They were never children either- one of the properties the drug has is to prevent the user from questioning what they see- as you proved, by just accepting that your friends were now children, rather than adults."  
  
The man- Pippin, Teal'c suddenly remembered- turned to face the others, and held up a small wooden box. He then turned to face Teal'c, prising open the lid gently, and revealing an ivory ring, with a soft green-black gem embedded in the top. With a grave expression on his face, he lifted Teal'c's massive hand, and slid the ring down the middle finger.  
  
" I, Pippin Aragon," he said loudly, " Former Chieftain of the East Village of Under-Earth, proclaim this man- Teal'c of Chulak- to be the Chosen One."  
  
*  
  
Blearily, Sam hugged herself gingerly, quietly moving from the mouth of the cave that she had hidden in for- if she counted the days that she had been unconscious- five and a half days. The sky was a weak tawny yellow, splotches of blue and red colouring it. It was clear; the clouds and the rain had passed with the Lordlings- who had finally left that morning, if Ruthie was to be believed. The teenager had been in a permanent good mood since she and Saeras had finally found their parents- very alive and uninjured, thankfully- the day before, and the moment the Lordlings had left (probably to terrorise another village, Sam thought bitterly), the two had gathered up their belongings and joined them in the adjoining cave.  
  
Staring up at the sky, Sam muttered to herself;  
  
" God, Daniel- you had better be okay. You too, Teal'c, Colonel…" She hadn't heard from Daniel since he'd cut her off, and had spent the two days worrying about what it was that had made him cut her off; what it was that had kept him from reporting back like he had promised.  
  
" Are you still worrying about your…team-mates…Chosen?" Amba struggled over the unusual word as she emerged from the cave, carrying a pot of the soup from the other day, mixed with ( to Sam's dismay) a Chicken Tikka Masala.  
  
" Yes, and please don't call me that," Sam whispered.  
  
Ever since she had awoken, Amba had been calling her 'Chosen'; when she was introduced to Ruthie and Saeras' parents, it had been as 'the Chosen One,' rather than Major Samantha Carter. It was…embarrassing and annoying, to say the least.  
  
" Call you what, Chosen?" Amba asked, puzzled. Sam grit her teeth together.  
  
"That," she hissed emphatically, " Chosen, or the Chosen One. It makes me sound…special. And I'm not; at least, not in the way you mean. I'm just the product of something someone wrote a thousand years ago." Sam closed her eyes wearily, and vaguely wondered if General Hammond had sent a rescue team through to save them, or whether he had declared them MIA, again. " Please, just call me Sam."  
  
Amba frowned, puzzled, and ladled some of the Tikka Masala-Leek Soup into a china-bone bowl, handing it to Sam, who grimaced, but accepted it all the same.  
  
" Okay," she said at last, "Sam." Amba eagerly drank her soup, not seeming to notice- or maybe care- that it was hot enough to scold her lips and tongue. Amba shot Sam a sated smile, and continued; " You shouldn't worry for your friends, Sam, but yourself."  
  
Sam frowned.  
  
" What do you mean I shouldn't worry about my friends?" she raged, " They're my family." Amba gave a nod of agreement, as if to say; Yes, yes, that's all very well, but…  
  
" And that's the point," Amba calmly said. " They're your family, yes, but they're also too far away from you for you to actually help them."  
  
Sam had been drinking her soup at that point (and trying desperately to keep it down), and froze mid-action at Amba's words, calmly setting the bowl onto the grassy floor, chewing her lower lip. Finally, she said coldly;  
  
" What do you mean; 'I'm too far away to help them'?"  
  
Amba blinked for one moment at the Major's aggressiveness, and Sam instantly wished she could take back her belligerent tone.  
  
" Have you not wondered why, when you arrived here, you were all alone?" She asked Sam softly, her tone encouraging as she shifted so that she faced the Major properly. Without waiting for an answer, she continued, " It's hard to say what came first; the prophecy or the rings being hidden. The Central tribe- that would be the City of Ares- believe that the prophecy came about after the rings had been hidden. Others, like the Eastern Aresians, believe that the rings were hidden because of the prophecy. But in the end, all the tribes agree that there is a prophecy; and that the prophecy dictates that the Chosen Ones would retrieve the lost rings from the four corners of the planet." Sam was watching Amba intently now, needing to know about the prophecy like a drowning man needed air. " You've been sent to the Southern sector- a barren land of desolation and cliffs that look out to the North Seas. After the Southern sector, comes the Northern sector- the ocean. The Northern Aresians fled to the oceans- to the bottom of them- centuries ago, to escape the Lordlings, and some say, the possibility of battle." Amba flung out her arms, one hand waving in the general direction of the Ocean and the ice-caps that Sam had seen when she had first arrived. " Behind us, is the West- the land of the Giant Cataracts and Mountains. The Western Aresians hide behind the safety of the Mountains and the wild rivers; although it is rumoured that the Lordlings can be located by the flock there. You don't want any of your friends to end up there; although it's most feasible that they have." Amba sighed heavily, and drank some more of her soup- almost gulping it down.  
  
" And finally," she continued, " There is the Eastern sector. Like the Northern sector, it's probably the safest place on this planet- true, the Eastern Aresians have political issues, but they killed the Lordlings of the East a long time ago, much like the Northern Aresians."  
  
The sun was high in the sky by the time that Amba had finished, and Sam's soup had gone cold.  
  
All the better to not drink it, she thought with an inward grimace.  
  
" So," she said softly, " My friends have been sent to the different sectors of the planet."  
  
Amba nodded.  
  
Well, isn't that just super? The part of Sam that had been hanging around with the men of SG-1 way too much, snarled, And if Daniel's luck is just as super as mine, then he'll have been sent to the Western sector, whilst the Colonel and Teal'c at least get to feel safe.  
  
On a whim, Sam discreetly tilted her bowl- And whoops! What a shame. My heart bleeds- the stone cold abomination seeping into the earth, and then turned to Amba.  
  
" I suppose," she began dryly, " You wouldn't happen to know where the ring I'm meant to look for is, do you?" The added 'do you?' was pitifully hopeful, Sam's eyes expressively wide, her eyebrows arched pointedly. Amba gave a frown.  
  
" Not it's specific location," she admitted. " But there is talk that the man that hid the ring, buried it along the cliffs-in the direction of the Northern Sector- in memory of his wife, who he sent to the Northern sector to hide from the Lordlings."  
  
Sam shifted her gaze to the general direction in which the Northern sector lay, and felt her heart sink to the very pit of her stomach. The cliffs stretched out for miles.  
  
Tears burning in the corners of her eyes, Sam abruptly stood, and sharply said;  
  
" I'm going for a walk. Care to join?"  
  
Amba- gentle, sweet Amba- smiled gracefully and nodded, standing up, her long cotton-like skirt falling to the floor, trailing over the long blades of grass, its' hem grubby and torn. Sam set the pace; brisk and angry- and they set out in the direction of the cliffs and the cold, icy blue sea that seemed to stretch out into- and beyond- eternity.  
  
You know Amba probably thinks you're on a hunt for the ring, Sam's little mental voice warned.  
  
I know, Sam shot back, partly annoyed that she was inwardly talking to herself, again.  
  
She's going to expect results.  
  
I know that too.  
  
It was the piercing shriek of a woman in distress that broke Sam from her reverie, and Carter blinked rapidly, and glanced down, nearly crying out herself as soft earth began to give way. She skipped backwards, and tripped, landing on her painfully on her butt, jarring bruises she didn't even know she'd gotten until then.  
  
" Oh shit," she cursed; Amba's pale, fragile hand was clawing desperately at mossy earth as the woman began to lose her grip on a rotten twig buried under the ground. Carter dived forward, managing to latch onto Amba's hand- the woman gave a howl of pain as Sam's nails dug into her skin-, crawling forward on her belly to grasp Amba's wrist.  
  
" Oh fuck!" Sam hissed loudly. The earth had opened up, revealing an age- old trap, filled with what looked like rusty, but still very deadly spikes at the bottom. Amba had managed to find a foothold with her flailing feet, and was trying desperately to twist around to have a look herself.  
  
" What? What?"  
  
" Don't move!" Sam barked out as Amba slid down an inch, dragging her forward, sharp stones cutting into her over-sensitised belly. Amba, her elderly eyes wide and frightened, like a deer caught in headlights, stilled obediently. Sam gave a sigh of relief, and inched forward, and tightened her grip on Amba's hand to reach forward and loop her left arm under Amba's right armpit, physically hauling the woman from the hole. When Amba's upper half was over the lip of the hole, Sam let go of her hand entirely, using her free hand to help the struggling woman get her legs up. Dirt flew as they scrambled away from the hole, and Sam caught sight of something twinkling on the ground.  
  
It can't be…can it?  
  
Amba fell back, wheezing for air, and Sam crawled forward, sifting dirt through her fingers.  
  
She gave a choked gasp as her suspicions were confirmed, and a fiery gold band, a ruby set on top, fell onto her smooth palm.  
  
The ring.  
  
She couldn't help herself; she really couldn't:  
  
" Oh my God."  
  
Amba struggled to sit up straight, her face pinched tight with worry.  
  
" What is it?" she demanded. Sam held up the ring, slipping it onto her finger.  
  
Amba's eyes widened, a smile tugging at her lips, creasing her eyes, and a gut-wrenching laugh tore itself from her throat; Sam followed suit, falling back onto her haunches, collapsing into hysterical laughter. They stayed like that for what seemed like forever, until Amba suddenly fell silent, and in a quiet, sombre voice, asked;  
  
" What's that?"  
  
She was staring at Sam's fatigues as a tinny, crackly voice broke through the mirth- Sam gave a start; she had forgotten that she had slipped her hand radio into her pocket after Daniel had turned his off.  
  
And someone was trying to contact her.  
  
" Carter, are you receiving? Do you copy?"  
  
Frantically, a wide grin spreading across her face, Sam fumbled for the radio, pulling it out triumphantly, and jabbing a button on the side, she shouted happily into it;  
  
" Yes, sir, I am receiving loud and clear! It's good to hear from you, Colonel."  
  
She stood up, glancing instinctively out to the Ocean, and grinned happily at Amba. There was a long pause, and then;  
  
" Jeez, Carter- deafen me, why don't ya?"  
  
" Sorry sir," Sam meekly apologised. " It's just good to hear someone since Daniel cut me off." There was a black speck moving steadily towards the cliff, and before Jack could make a comment on her Daniel remark, Sam quickly added, " If you don't mind me asking sir, but where are you?"  
  
Amba had gotten up at last, and was looking excitedly out at the ocean.  
  
" Since you asked," Jack's voice came crackling back, " I'm on a ship, surrounded by really, really cold water and heading towards some lovely, scenic cliffs."  
  
Oh. My. God.  
  
Ignoring the Colonel's sarcasm, a rather stunned Sam replied; " No shit sir."  
  
" Carter! Language!"  
  
Sam grinned down at her radio, and began to run to the lip of the cliff, to where the black speck was now suspiciously shaped like a galleon, a few men loitering on the deck. One man was standing by the mast, holding something to his mouth.  
  
" I'm sorry sir," she apologised again, " It's just I happen to be on one of the cliffs you're approaching."  
  
From the strange, crackly noises her radio was making, it sounded like O'Neill had dropped his radio in shock; her suspicions were confirmed when loud swearing could be heard on the other end, before Jack finally picked it up, and said;  
  
" Where? Where are you, Major?"  
  
The ship was just beneath the cliff now, and Sam risked an inch, waving her arm frantically, like when she had been little, waiting for Daddy the Colonel, and then later, Dad the General, to return home from a bad day at 'work'.  
  
" Here sir, I'm her-"  
  
And then the world fell from beneath her.  
  
For one second, Sam thought she had accidentally discovered another trap; but when cold air began to rush against her warm skin, and she could hear the dual yells of Amba above, and O'Neill, below, she realised with a sickening jolt that she had fallen from the cliff.  
  
The wooden flooring of the boat was rushing up to meet her, and as Sam slammed into the deck- hard enough for the wood to strain and crack- she thought she heard someone calling her name.  
  
And then there was nothing.  
  
*  
  
Pain!  
  
Burning- yet so godamn icy- pain coursed through his shoulder, racing down his spine, streaking across his ribs, tingling at the tips of his toes…  
  
" Come on, damn you, wake up. You have to wake up!"  
  
His room-mate Steven had said that to him once; when they had roomed together in a run-down rental house. There had been a gas leak- Steven had been out, at a lecture- and Daniel had fallen asleep on the couch; when he had woken up, it had been in the ambulance on the way to the hospital…  
  
…Except…he wasn't in university anymore, was he? He was thirty-seven, working as an Archaeologist/ Anthropologist/ Linguist on SG-1, the frontline team.  
  
And he was in so much godamn pain.  
  
Daniel grit his teeth together, tears prickling at the back of his eyes, and concentrated on the husky, tearful voice trying to rouse him;  
  
" Please, you have to wake up now…they think you're one of the Lordlings…"  
  
His eyelids heavy, pain crashing in alternating hot and cold waves over his body, Daniel forced his eyes to open.  
  
At first, all there was darkness; and then his vision cleared, and he could just make out a blurry, corpulent woman with salt-and-pepper grey hair, worried brown eyes gazing down at him. Jackson blinked, and tried to say something- nothing happened; Daniel licked his dry, cracked lips, and tried again.  
  
" Shouldn't I be dead?" His voice was scratchy, a mere ghost of a whisper, and it hurt to talk.  
  
A smile broke across the woman's face, her eyes darting to something behind him, and she took one of his hands- the right- had gently patted it.  
  
But I should be, shouldn't I? Daniel inwardly continued, I was stabbed in the shoulder by a Lordling, and then thrown off the ledge, into the cascades. I should be very, very dead.  
  
The woman seemed to agree with him, as she helped him to sit, spooning a lukewarm liquid that tasted of goulash into his mouth; sating his thirst like water to a desert.  
  
" Yes," she said after a while, " You should be dead. Had my son not have found you, you would have been dead. But for the moment, you are alive, and be thankful for it. No-one survives an attack from the Lordlings."  
  
Tiredly, Daniel gazed around him, taking in his surroundings;  
  
He half-lay, half-sat on a stone bed ( inwardly, he winced), with a stone head-rest acting as a pillow- like the bed that the Ancient Egyptians had slept in. He was in what he presumed was the woman's hut; a baby slept soundly in a cradle in the corner- away from the harsh rays of light- and a young boy stood awkwardly by the doorway, seemingly acting as a guard. His dazed blue eyes shifted, and he stared at his own body- the shoulder that had been stabbed was wrapped heavily in bandages, a gauze pad stolen from his MediKit pressing against a gash across his stomach. Gingerly, he lifted a corner of the bandages- and winced. The woman- or the local doctor- had stitched up his stab wound, to prevent the blood loss, and surrounding the black stitches were the first crimson streaks of an infection. He was still wearing his fatigue bottoms- albeit, they were torn at the knees and resting snugly at his hips, exposing a pale concaved bruised and bloody stomach. Evidently, his tee-shirt and jacket hadn't survived his plummet from the outcrop. Surprisingly, he was still wearing his boots, and in the corner of the hut, he could just make out his backpack in the corner- a lot emptier than it had been when he had started out- and resting on top, were his shattered glasses.  
  
Janet's going to kill me, he inwardly chastised himself, they were new.  
  
" Who are you?" the woman asked suddenly, breaking the silence. Every now and again, she and the little boy- her son- would glance at the door, as if expecting someone to walk in.  
  
Taken aback by the question, Daniel answered without even thinking;  
  
" Daniel Jackson. I'm sorry but…I still don't know your name…"  
  
" Angie Bells, Daniel. And this is my son, Tom Bells." She pressed a hand to the small of the back of the boy and ushered him forward. Weakly, Daniel leaned forward, wincing as pain flared across his chest- evidently he had broken a rib or two- and took Tom's hand, shaking it.  
  
" You're the Chosen One," Tom blurted out. Angie frowned, and held up a finger to her lips to hush him.  
  
Wincing again, Daniel interrupted her;  
  
" No, he's ah, right. I'm one of the Chosen Four. I got stabbed trying to retrieve my ring."  
  
Tom looked impressed, his eyes lighting up, and Angie shot him a warning look.  
  
" My people," she began, turning back to Daniel- and she was staring not at Daniel, but at someone behind him. Daniel felt himself stiffen, his short hair rising on the back of his neck. " My people think that you are one of the Lordlings, or if not a Lordling, one of their collaborators."  
  
Daniel twisted on his bed, grimacing as he jarred multiple cracked ribs, tugging at the stitches marring his shoulder. And then he froze;  
  
There were several men and women behind him, all holding a weapon of some kind; one slim, but elderly, woman held an axe, and the man next to her held a heavy looking stick. They all looked like they wanted to beat him into submission.  
  
Daniel twisted back to Angie, biting his lower lip to stop himself from crying out.  
  
" Ah- what's, ah, going on?"  
  
It was the man carrying the stick- really a staff- who spoke; his voice cold and angry.  
  
" You're to be incarcerated for collaborating with the Lordlings."  
  
Several men stepped out from the crowd, latching onto his aching arms, and easing him from the bed. They didn't seem to hear Daniel's gasps of pain as the stone scraped his tender, abused back, and they most certainly didn't seem to care when his legs- weak and shaky- folded in two, and he sank to the floor.  
  
In fact, they seemed just as happy to drag him from the hut.  
  
" Come on, this isn't fair!" Daniel pleaded hopelessly- someone backhanded him hard enough to make his teeth rattle and his nose bleed- " I've been trying to help your people by finding the ring. What makes you think I'm a Lordling anyway?"  
  
" Because of this." The man who had spoken to him before broke free from the crowd, forcing the two guards to stop, and grabbed his jaw, yanking Daniel's head viciously to the left.  
  
Oh my God.  
  
To the left were the colossal mountains that Daniel had seen- and partly climbed- when he was on the run from the Lordlings. And emerging from the base of the mountains, their knives, crossbows, swords and axes glinting in the sunlight, were the Lordlings. They were heading for the village.  
  
" This isn't my fault!" Daniel broke from his reverie, turning worried blue eyes up to the man he presumed was the Chieftain. Nausea rose steadily up his throat as he realised the Aresians didn't seem to care- and what made it worse was that he understood; their village was under attack from Lordlings and co-incidentally, at the same time, a man was found washed up on the riverbank. They needed to blame someone else; it stopped them from blaming themselves.  
  
As expected, the Chieftain ignored him, and the guards proceeded to frog march him to a cluster of huts, a small cage- the size that people used for their dogs- made of wood in between the huts. The axe-wielding elderly woman darted up, unlocking the door, and swinging it open.  
  
" No, wait-"  
  
Daniel's protest trailed off into a yowl of pain as a guard dug two fingers into his stitches- his legs buckled, the world spinning, coloured dots flashing before his eyes. When his vision cleared, and the throbbing had diminished to a dull ache, Daniel was in the cage, his slim figure hunched up, the broken ribs pressing against his skin.  
  
*  
  
Angie Bells looked away in bitter disappointment as the Chieftain and the Elders of the Western Falls Village surrounded Daniel, and frog-marched him away- despite Tom's protests. For two days and two nights, she had nursed the man- the Chosen One- bathing him in ice when the fever struck; stitching up his stab wound and then bandaging it to stem the blood flow. By all accounts, it was a miracle that he was even alive; that he could even walk.  
  
" Mama, stop them," Tom begged, tugging at her sleeve, and then glancing at Daniel's knapsack.  
  
Angie felt her heart break, tears welling in her eyes.  
  
" I can't, baby," she whispered soothingly, " Harrah's the Chieftain of this village. You know that."  
  
Tears of frustration welled in Tom's eyes.  
  
" But he's the Chosen One, Mama," he begged in a choked voice, as if Daniel's title made all the difference, " We need him."  
  
In the corner, Baby Clara began to wail; as if she too, mourned the loss of Daniel. Throughout the two days and nights that Angie had cared for Daniel, Clara had remained quiet, and her fever seemed to have broken. Her brow creasing, a head-ache clamouring for attention, Angie crossed the room, and lifted the howling child from her cradle, gently placing a hand on Clara's forehead. She cringed at the heat radiating from Clara, at the pain in the little one's eyes.  
  
" I know we need him Tom," she said wearily, " And believe me, I want to help him…" Clara's cries quieted, and Angie's eyes snapped open, flickering to the left, where, if she squinted, she could see the blurred movement of Lordlings. Her eyes shifted back to little Tom, and Baby Clara. Her other two children, Sophia and Mary-Anne, were safely hidden miles away, in a cave- or if Richard had been successful- safely stashed away in the Village of the North Seas. But Tom and Clara; they weren't safe; the Lordlings would kill Tom, and take Clara.  
  
I've had a good life, Angie silently resolved, I've got a wonderful husband, three wonderful daughters and a brilliant son. But I can't offer them safety and stability. I can't even offer them education- only the City of Ares can do that.  
  
Her mind made up, Angie turned to Tom, and in a very shaky voice, said;  
  
" Tom…I need you to go and pack yours and Clara's clothes. Take some food and toys if you wish."  
  
Tom looked up at her, puzzled.  
  
" Mama?"  
  
" We're going to rescue him," Angie whispered, " Tonight. And then we're going to leave."  
  
*  
  
  
  
Sara had the most beautiful laugh; Major Jack O'Neill grinned and waggled Charlie's chubby hand at her, his grin widening when Sara smiled broadly and dug out a camera from her knapsack.  
  
They were on a private beach; a break from the sessions with the psychiatrist, from the constant nightmares. Earlier on, he and Sara had cuddled up on a towel, Charlie cuddled up between them, and they had fallen asleep, their fingers interlaced.  
  
Just like a normal couple.  
  
Except, Jack thought wryly as he ducked under the turquoise ocean, and tickled Charlie's knees as the toddler bobbed in the water, normal couples don't wake up abruptly because the husband has Nightmares about what happened in Iraq.  
  
Normal couples don't need therapy.  
  
" Colonel O'Neill-"  
  
Jack looked up with a start. He was just a Major- not a Colonel.  
  
" Colonel O'Neill, please-"  
  
Jack jerked awake, coughing and spluttering as Artemis and Arris shook his shoulder roughly. He blinked, opening his eyes, and stared around him. They were near an ocean- but nowhere near the twin islands and the white-water river; and hundreds of people were beginning to cluster around him. Jack sat up; he was still wet, which meant he hadn't been out for long.  
  
" Your plan worked, Colonel," Arris said proudly with a smile.  
  
Jack nodded dazedly- Toros and Lya were helping some young boys uncover something, their eyes shining with excitement. His throat constricted again, and O'Neill doubled over, his lungs rattling as he coughed, his eyes burning. After a while, he became aware that someone was rubbing his back soothingly, like he had used to do with Charlie, and wore recently, Daniel. He opened his eyes again- he had screwed them up when he had began coughing- and blinked owlishly. A young girl who looked about seventeen was standing at his elbow, smiling sympathetically.  
  
She stuck out her hand, and said with a friendly smile; " I'm Mary-Anne Bells. It's nice to meet one of the Chosen at last."  
  
" Mary-Anne," Jack drawled, dragging the name out, " Kind of a normal name, in comparison to everyone else here. I'm Jack."  
  
The girl had elbow-length wavy ginger hair and bright blue eyes, like Daniel's, and pale, freckled skin. Behind her, Jack realised, was another girl- a little older- with brown hair, like Cassandra, and doe brown eyelashes.  
  
" It's because we're from the West," Mary-Anne explained, waving her arm at the second girl, and a man near to them. " We travel every few years, to escape the Lordlings." She gestured to the other girl, her cheeks dimpling into a smile, " This is my foster sister, and cousin, Sophia, and her father, Richard."  
  
Still feeling dazed, confused, and as if his lungs had been filled up by half the ocean, Jack shakily stood, and shook first Sophia's, and then Richard's hands. He then glanced around him; at the activity taking place, almost frenetically. The thing that Toros and Lya had been trying to uncover was revealed to be a galleon, and Artemis was talking quietly with his mother, Arris, in a corner. Everywhere Jack looked, on the sandy beach, and the grassy field that followed it, there was activity of some kind- whether it be the scholars gingerly unfolding precious documents, or the farmers complaining about their fish.  
  
He blinked owlishly.  
  
" Okay," he gestured, wishing he didn't sound quite as dumb as he did, " Excuse me for the moment- but what the heck is going on?"  
  
The man that Jack had been introduced to as Sophia's father- Richard- smiled whimsically.  
  
" The scholars realised where the Rings had transported us the moment they caught glance of the coastline," Richard explained. " This is, from what I've been told, the original land of the Northern Aresians. Although the Southern Aresian, Jolinar-" Unseen by Richard or the two girls, Jack arched an eyebrow in recognition of the name, "- helped them build the Domes, and the Ring Transport System, they first had to sail out to the Ocean."  
  
Jack glanced again at the massive vessel.  
  
" And of course, they kept the ship they used," he interrupted. Then he frowned. " But shouldn't it be…well…falling apart if it's that old?"  
  
Sophia shook her head.  
  
" They would have put it in Lembras-" she pointed at Jack's metal collar, "- to keep it in pristine condition."  
  
Arris and Artemis were moving back to Jack, Artemis smiling. The Colonel stared at them, still feeling half-asleep; Arris' eyes were…sad, despondent, and her arm was wrapped around Artemis' waist, hugging him to her.  
  
" I'm glad to see you've met the Bells," Arris nodded approvingly at Richard, Sophie and Mary-Anne Bells. She motioned to Jack's necks, where his boots were still hanging around it, and blinking, Jack took them off, and then slipped his dog-tags off, slipping the ring off, and onto his finger. " Now that you have found your ring, you are no doubt wondering where you must take it," Arris continued gravely.  
  
Jack nodded, and bent down to slip on his boots, cringing when water seeped in between his toes.  
  
" The prophecy states that you must take it back to the City of Ares, but to get there, you must travel to the Southern sector. We believe that there is a Transport System of some kind that will transport you back to the City." Arris twisted, allowing Jack a clear view of the vessel. " Which is where the vessel and the Bells family comes in."  
  
Half-an hour later, Jack stared around him in sheer awe at the number of people willing to travel with him; who wanted to travel with him. The Bells family were accompanying him because Richard wanted to take the girls to the City of Ares, where they would be safe, before using the Transport System to travel back to the Western Village. As well as the Bells family, Artemis Frau was also accompanying him- partly to help him navigate, and partly so he too, could visit the City of Ares. The others were 'gifts' from Arris as a form of gratitude to Jack for helping her save the village. Lya Tore was staying behind with Toros, to help with the engineering, much to Artemis' chagrin.  
  
" So," Jack said after a while- he now stood in front of the massive ship, ready to board it, " I'm that important, huh?"  
  
Arris nodded, and smiled sadly, pressing her hand into his.  
  
" Good luck, O'Neill," she said softly as he climbed the rope ladder, " And maybe I'll see you after all this is over."  
  
Jack glanced down from the starboard.  
  
" Maybe," he said.  
  
*  
  
It was dark; it was cold- and Daniel was seriously pissed off.  
  
But more than that; he was afraid.  
  
A few hours ago, the Lordlings had attacked the village; setting fire to huts, killing innocent human beings. One woman named Lucy Cumblethorn had stopped to give him a bowl of water, just when the Lordlings had attacked. She now lay, dead, her large, vacant eyes chillingly fixed on Daniel. Harrah Cumblethorn- the Chieftain of the village- lay by her side, his fingers entwined with Lucy's, dying from an arrow to his back. Tears slowly trickling ( to Daniel's mortification and shame) down his cheek and through his stubble, Daniel turned his head to the side, looking pointedly away, and tried not to retch.  
  
" Chosen!"  
  
A young male voice hissed from the darkness- Daniel brought his head up sharply, cringing when pain flared across his chest, shoulder and down his bruised back. His legs were aching- cramped from being pressed against the side of a wooden cage for far too long.  
  
Two young boys- one that Daniel had never seen before, but judging from the tears welling in his eyes, and his facial features, he was the son of Lucy and Harrah Cumblethorn- were crouched by his cage. The other one- the one that Daniel vaguely recognised as Tom Bells, the child who had found him- was holding what looked like a large china-bone key, Daniel's knapsack at his feet, and a canvas bag slung over his shoulders.  
  
Daniel blinked, and wished he could rub his eyes- if only to rub away the tears, the weariness.  
  
" Tom?" he finally asked, blue eyes sliding to the left, to study the boy who he had identified as Lucy's son; he had a mop of soft brown hair, green- black eyes, and a freckled, snub nose. And for some, chilling reason, he reminded Daniel of when he had been eight; of the painfully forlorn look that had haunted his eyes ever since he had seen his parents crushed by a tomb cover-stone.  
  
Tom nodded and sidled forward, something flashing in the dimming light.  
  
" Mama says we're leaving," the boy whispered as he unlocked Daniel's cage, " Jacob's coming with us."  
  
Biting his lower lip to suppress a groan as he forced his cramped, stiff legs to move, Daniel crawled, doubled over- pain flaring across his chest as he jarred his broken ribs- from the cage, and tried not to retch at the site of Lucy and Harrah, their eyes so vacant, their blood staining the grass.  
  
His back creaked loudly as he straightened, gladly taking his damp, half- empty bag, and Daniel glanced around him.  
  
" Where is your Mama?" he asked absently.  
  
As if to answer his question, a shadowy form emerged from the darkness, swathed in an inconspicuous tan-brown cloak, her head bent low. It wasn't until she stood, elbow to elbow by the boys, that Angie Bells lowered her hood, her greying hair tumbling to her shoulders.  
  
She raised her dark eyes, studying Daniel's pain-lined face, and inwardly cringed at the fading yellow-brown bruises peppering his face, and she knew from the days she had spent nursing him back to health, his chest. Next, she glanced away from him, to the bloody floor, where Lucy and Harrah lay, prone- dead. Tears prickled in the back of her eyes. Harrah may have been pompous and portentous- and he may have wanted Daniel Jackson to be executed the next day- but he didn't deserve to die. Jacob was kneeling by them, Baby Clara cradled protectively in his arms, and Angie gave a sigh of relief. She had been worried that Tom would forget his sister in the excitement of rescuing Daniel.  
  
Gently, Angie bent low, and prised Clara from Jacob, her face twisted in a mask of misery and sympathy.  
  
" I'm sorry," she finally said, a bit breathlessly, " I didn't want anyone to see me, so I had to hide for a while. I've been watching the Lordlings, Daniel Jackson. They've taken your ring to a temple, close to the woodland." For the first time, she allowed herself a small, crafty smile. " Which is the direction we shall be headed in."  
  
Daniel smiled, his cheeks dimpling, and pressed a hand to the small of his back, wincing when a joint popped.  
  
" That's good," he murmured- in the distance, fire crackled as the Lordlings set fire to Angie's thatch hut- " I think we'd better leave now, Angie, before the Lordlings find us."  
  
Angie nodded, and pressed her hand into Jacob's small, pale hand, curling her fingers around his. To hers- and Daniel's- surprise, he pulled away.  
  
" I'm not going," the little boy stubbornly said in a choked voice. " Mama and Papa might still be alive." He was staring at Lucy's and Harrah's body, at their open, vacant eyes, and bile rose up Daniel's throat at the memories it stirred; memories of himself, as a boy, stubbornly refusing to believe Mom and Dad were dead; that he was alone in the world. Memories of trying to coax them to wake, as they lay so still, so pale- the wounds stitched up, the blood washed away- in their caskets.  
  
" Tom, take Daniel to the temple," Angie desperately whispered, " I'll be with you in a few minutes." She turned to Daniel, tears gathering in her eyes, and thrust Clara at him. In a soft voice, she whispered; " I knew something like this would happen. Please- can you take Clara? I don't want her to grow up as some…fancy woman to a Lordling." Her breath caught in her throat, as she added, " The pony's round the other side of the house. If I don't make it, could you tell Tom his Mama loved him, and was very, very proud of him?"  
  
Silently, Daniel nodded, feeling his throat tighten uncomfortably, and cradled Clara to his chest, biting back a gasp of pain. Angie's face was pinched as she turned to face Jacob, falling to her knees, and began speaking in a soft, soothing voice. Blocking out Jacob's little sobs of misery, he mutely followed Tom around the side of the hut, the fire casting an orange glow across his face.  
  
Like Angie had told him, the steed was tied to a stake, by the front of the Cumblethorn's house: Tom lifted the leather reins from the wooden stake, and slung his, and then, at the wince seemingly permanently etched into Daniel's face, Daniel's canvas bag onto the horse's back. The horse was a large animal- much larger, Daniel realised, than Tau'ri equines. Rather than soft, brown eyes, it had chartreuse coloured cat-like eyes that seemed to see right through you; to your very soul. As Tom scrambled up a wooden step-ladder, to saddle it, Daniel gave a little shudder. From the horse, Tom beckoned at Daniel, and reluctantly, the archaeologist mounted the horse, his stiff legs protesting brutally.  
  
On a whole, Daniel had never gotten on all that well with large animals such as horses; when he had been five, he had fallen from a grumpy, humpback camel and dislocated his shoulder, and then, only six years ago, on the first trip to Abydos, he had been dragged half-way to the mines by a yak, his foot caught up in the reins, his back burning the entire time, until he had eventually passed out, and had come to with the yak licking his face lovingly, like a dog.  
  
They rode for nearly twenty minutes, at a brisk pace, each movement pitilessly jolting Daniel's cracked ribs and bruised back. Baby Clara slept serenely, her pale face a little flushed by the heat of the flames as they rode through the burning village, and across the moorland. At one point, Daniel dared to glance back, and inwardly cringed when he thought he saw a flock of the Lordlings storm the small area he had been kept in; the same area that he had last seen Jacob and Angie in.  
  
The sky was a velvet black now, purple-grey clouds gathering, blocking the small, silver moon, and as the first droplets of rain kissed the back of his neck, Daniel twisted in his seat, so that he faced the front again. Tom was bent over double, squinting against the rain- Clara was still clutched tightly to Daniel's chest, although he had now pulled out his rain Mac, and was using it as an umbrella for the two children.  
  
" Oh my God!"  
  
Daniel's cry was lost to the howling wind, the sheets of rain and thunder, and the thunderous pounding of the hooves of Lordling horses- although they were over twenty minutes away from the two, Daniel swore he could still hear them. Just in front of them, was a small ziggurat- probably made from sandstone. For one second, Daniel allowed himself to be caught up in the peculiarity of his find;  
  
I thought they had Greek, with a small hint of Egyptian or Goa'uld, roots- especially with Ares…so what the hell is a ziggurat doing here?  
  
" Chosen? We're here."  
  
Tom's voice- worried and a little diffident- broke through his trance, and Daniel blinked as the horse- he hadn't learned its' name, and if he were honest, had no desire to- slowed and then stopped altogether. Tom was gripping the reins in his small pale hands, his knuckles white, and with interest, Daniel noted that they now stood by the ziggurat.  
  
Clutching Clara protectively, Daniel winced, and slid off the horse, little jolts of pain racing up his spine and across his chest. Tom followed suit, and then, glancing sharply at the Village of Western Falls, and at Daniel, he led the steed around the side of the building.  
  
So the Lordlings won't find it, Daniel realised belatedly.  
  
The Lordlings, as it was, had smashed down the side entrance to the ziggurat- there was rubble and fresh scorch marks where they had probably an energy weapon of some kind- like a staff weapon or a zatnikitel- revealing a dark, gloomy hall, lit dimly by flaming golden torches. Daniel swallowed convulsively; he didn't know what was hidden in the murky gloom of the halls- of the maze if memory served correctly.  
  
For all I know, a Lordling's hiding there, waiting for me and Tom, he thought timorously, his hand snaking impulsively to his hip, where he had kept his pistol.  
  
Except, of course, he didn't have a pistol anymore; the Lordlings in the cavern had thrown it- just before they had thrown him- off the cliff. He was completely and utterly defenceless, with two young charges to protect.  
  
Daniel blinked, and then thought savagely; Oh fuck it. If I'm going to die, I want to go out in style.  
  
He took a step into the darkness, Tom appearing, following him hesitantly, and snatched one of the torches from the side of the wall, its flame flickering like a beacon in the darkness.  
  
" So," he said softly, to break the silence, " My ring's hidden in here."  
  
It wasn't a question; merely a statement- an acknowledgement that if he were ever going to get home, he needed that ring.  
  
Home, Daniel thought a little resentfully, When did I start thinking of Earth as home? When Apophis took Sha'uri from me? Or when Teal'c killed her?  
  
When he had gone to Abydos for the first time, he had been nearly as Jack had been; but in a different way. Jack had known he wouldn't return from Abydos because he was going to blow it up; Daniel had known he wouldn't return, simply because he had nothing to return to. His parents had been dead for over twenty years; his grants had ran out- and at the time he had doubted the USAF would have any other use of him, other than to translate the tablet; his relationship with Sarah had broken down five years before. True, he hadn't been suicidal, like Jack; but he had come damn close. Sha'uri, Kasuf and Skaara had pulled him back from the brink of despair- and that in turn had pushed him to help them rebel against Ra.  
  
Silently, Daniel and Tom stumbled forward in the dark, pressing their palms against the cool walls as a reassurance. They had been walking through the halls for fifteen minutes, Daniel estimated, when they finally emerged from the long winding halls, into a large cavernous room. Daniel arched an eyebrow.  
  
It was different from the halls, in that the walls weren't made from Sandstone, or granite, or any other mineral, but from gold. The floor remained dusty, rocks littering it and there were four other halls along the metal walls. A raised dais in the centre of the room held what looked suspiciously like a ring; clandestinely, Daniel glanced at his hand- in the confusion of waking up, to being imprisoned, to escaping the burning village, he had forgotten about his burnt hand, and looking at it now, he winced. The skin was pink, shiny and…scarred. Tom seemed to sense his hesitation, as he looked at Daniel, and smiled shyly, sweetly and added in a soft voice;  
  
" It's your ring, Chosen, not mine."  
  
He's so old for someone so young, Daniel realised, and then to cover the awkward silence, he muttered;  
  
" I really wish you wouldn't call me that. Prophesised or not, my name's Daniel not Chosen." Immediately, he regretted his words as Tom's eyes welled up with hurt, his lips thinning petulantly.  
  
" I'm sorry Tom-" he began, shifting Clara in his arms as he reached forward, snagging his ring from the Dais. " It's been a bad day-"  
  
His voice was drowned out as Tom angrily kicked at a large stone, a snarl crossing his normally serene face. The rock shot forward, and struck the corner of a wall, clunking loudly. There was a pause as the stone skittered down the hall, and then a strange thunderous rumble that slowly built up to a roar.  
  
His heart thumping, Daniel glanced up, slipping the ring onto his middle finger- it clashed noisily against his engagement ring- made from the remains of a yak on Abydos- from Sha'uri. His mouth dropped open, eyes flittering back to the hall that they had come from.  
  
The roar was coming from there.  
  
As the floor began to shake, dust and pebbles skittering and dancing over it, Daniel and Tom began to back up against the wall, edging along to one of the side exits. And then, his stomach lurching, with a horrible jolt Daniel realised what the noise was;  
  
The Lordlings. The Lordlings had found them.  
  
Shit.  
  
He flung down the torch, snagging Tom's hand, and pulled them into the darkness just as the first Lordling emerged from the hall. Without even waiting, he pushed Tom in front of him, and began to run, his legs aching. The movement jostled Clara, and her eyes snapped open, focussing eerily on Daniel a second before her mouth dropped open and a loud wail filled the halls. There were shouts behind them, and the sound of heavily booted feet and the whistling of arrows as they flew threw the air, striking the walls.  
  
His mouth dry, heart in his throat, Daniel carried on, gasping for air. They ran and ran, skidding around corners, ducking- and in Daniel's case- swearing as arrows and other weapons skimmed by them. The outlandish nightmare seemed to go one for eternity, before they emerged in the hall they had first taken- mercifully empty of Lordlings- and Daniel and Tom darted out the entrance, not even pausing for air as they skidded around the side of the building, to where the horse awaited.  
  
It felt- and sounded- like his heart was in his ears, and gasping, his chest burning, Daniel gave the still-howling Clara to Tom, and swung himself up onto the horse, sliding to the front. He then bent down, and his arms throbbing, lifted Tom and Clara from the ground, feeling disgustingly like Indiana Jones, or worse, John Wayne, as he swung the two onto the horse.  
  
" Tom, give me Clara," Daniel called, one hand curling around the reins. Shakily, Tom passed the baby to the archaeologist, and then clung to Daniel's waist as his boots struck the horse's flanks, and they tore away from the ziggurat.  
  
The pounding had returned, and from Tom's terrified whimpers and cries, it sounded like the Lordlings were pursuing them on horseback. Daniel narrowed his eyes, bent over, cradling Clara protectively to his burning chest, and urged the horse to move faster.  
  
The air was thick with arrows- evidently, without the technology of the Goa'uld, arrows, axes and swords were the only weapons the Lordlings could make- and Daniel and Tom were tantalisingly close to the forest; the forest, where they could hide, cloaked by the dark, thick trees.  
  
" Daniel!"  
  
A choked cry of pain startled Daniel, as Tom suddenly let go of his waist- Daniel risked a glance back, and gave a howl of horror as he watched helplessly as Tom tumbled backwards from the horse, his hands stretching out, as if he could grab Daniel. The child rolled three times before coming to a halt, lying motionless on his stomach. Three arrows pierced his back, blood beginning to stain the plain tunic, his eyes vacant, but scared, staring at Daniel.  
  
" No!" Daniel cried, feeling nauseous, tears prickling the back of his eyes, " God, no!"  
  
One of the Lordlings was drawing close to him, and his eyes flickered to Tom's lifeless body, a malicious smile ghosting his face, his eyes glittering menacingly Almost in slow motion, his right arm drew back, as he leaned back- and then he released his arm.  
  
The only warning Daniel had was the glimmer of metal, before something struck the shoulder Angie had stitched up, taking his breath away. A howl- almost animalistic- tore through the night air- and dimly, he realised it was himself.  
  
As red liquid blossomed from his shoulder, and blood roared in his eyes, black stars exploding behind his eyes, his body slumping forward on the horse, over Clara, protecting her, Daniel thought of Jack, Sam and Teal'c. Of their disappointment when they found out he was dead; of their grief and anger. His voice spent, he sent a silent prayer to the Gods, to the Moon, that someone would look after them. His last thought, before darkness slipped over him like a warm blanket, was;  
  
I'm sorry guys.  
  
*  
  
1.1.3 Part Two: The End of the Legacy  
  
" And now that I know you, I could never turn my back away: and now that I see you, I believe what they say."  
  
Source unknown.  
  
Teal'c had been underground for so long, that he had almost forgotten what the sun looked like; what sunlight felt like.  
  
Almost.  
  
The Jaffa- pale, tired and ill- staggered from the tunnel that both he and the former Chieftain of the Village of Under-Earth had been walking for over an hour, Pippin's arm around his waist, holding him steady, and squinted happily up at the two, round, swollen suns. The smaller pink sun was almost crimson, and its' sister was orange. Surrounding them was a haze of deep blue-green sky ( much like the colour of the sky on television documentaries on Australia or exotic islands) and billowing white clouds that rolled across the horizon like ocean waves. Wearily, the world spinning, Teal'c glanced around him, one eyebrow arched. In contrast to the gloomy, intricately carved underground caverns of the Village of Under- Earth, the world above was quite barren. Deserts- a glaring snowy white in the mid-day suns- stretched out for eternity, making him thirst for water that the Jaffa knew he'd never find. Now that he was in 'broad daylight' as the Tau'ri would have said, Teal'c could see the former Chieftain properly; pale-faced, with small, watery eyes, narrowed under the scrutiny of the sun, and unruly, curly auburn hair, freckles peppering the man's nose. He was, Teal'c observed, only a child- younger than Major Carter and Daniel Jackson, who were both in their mid-thirties.  
  
Unable to stand the silence any longer, Teal'c finally muttered sluggishly;  
  
" Why did you feel the need to accompany me to the surface and back to the City of Ares, Pippin Aragon?" During the journey to the surface, Pippin had explained that he was no longer Chieftain, having handed the title over to his cousin, Bursa, and that he would be accompanying Teal'c back to the City of Ares.  
  
Pippin, squinting up at the sun, tears prickling his eyes- not just from the lack of sunlight he had had from living underground- as he took in the sight that very few Eastern Aresians had lived to see and tell the tale, smiled at Teal'c's question. Like the Lordlings, Teal'c was painfully formal- but unlike the Lordlings, he was humble about his superior strength and (most probably, the young man thought with a smile) intelligence.  
  
" Mostly because I wanted to see the sun," Pippin answered honestly, wistfully, " Although that wasn't the only reason. You need someone to direct you back to the City of Ares; someone who can provide some protection from travelling merchants." The young man sighed suddenly, and added reluctantly, " But also because the Village of Under-Earth is rife with political troubles. I knew that Argas would never forgive me for declaring that a Jaffa-" he shot Teal'c an apologetic smile, "- to be the Chosen One, so I handed my title over to my cousin Bursa, so I could leave, preferably alive."  
  
Teal'c arched an eyebrow, his dark, sombre eyes questioning, and Pippin elaborated after a moments pause.  
  
" As I said," he began, " Under-Earth is rife with political troubles. My unofficial advisor- you met him, Argas- wanted to be Chieftain. As no doubt, did dozens of others. Bursa was the only one I could trust, as he is a patient man; he was heir to the title should I die, but he had no wish to kill me to become Chieftain."  
  
Teal'c paused; in the years that he had spent living on The First World- Earth- he had seen similar things on television; whether it be in movies like Star Wars or The Untouchables. Eventually, he said the only thing he could think of;  
  
" I see."  
  
Pippin smiled, seeming to accept this as it was, and then said, with a curious smile;  
  
" Tell me about your family Teal'c."  
  
Teal'c thought of his son, Ryac, and felt his throat tighten in pain. He had only seen the boy a few times since he had joined the Tau'ri in the war against the Goa'uld, and missed him deeply; at least when he had been First Prime to Apophis, he had seen the boy on a regular basis- both Ryac and his mother had moved with Teal'c when Apophis rewarded him with a newer, larger, more luxuriant house.  
  
" I have a son named Ryac," he finally said in a deep, choked voice, " His name means The Wise One. Lamentably, I do not see much of him, as I have joined the Tau'ri- my companions- in the battle against the Goa'uld."  
  
They carried on, Teal'c breathing heavily, in the direction of the suns- away from the green, lolling hills Teal'c had seen in the distance, but towards a blurred, brown haze.  
  
A building, perhaps? Teal'c wondered silently.  
  
" You didn't dream of Ryac when under the influence of Candoris, though," Pippin pointed out, " You dreamt of Daniel Jackson, O'Neill and Major Carter." He looked puzzled for one second, then added in a questioning voice, " The Tau'ri? Your companions?"  
  
Teal'c nodded wearily, his eyelids sliding shut for one second; he was tired, and he needed to perform Kel'No'Reem- but he had a feeling his friends needed him more; more than rest and Kel'No'Reem would allow.  
  
" The Tau'ri is also my family," he rumbled, " I believe I dreamt of them, when under the influence of this Candoris, because I know my son is safe in the Land of Light; however, I was- and still am- uncertain of where my friends are, and if they are, indeed, safe and well."  
  
Pippin looked impressed.  
  
" You're a wise man, Teal'c," he said solemnly.  
  
Teal'c allowed a smile to ghost his massive lips, his Egyptian (Daniel Jackson had once told him his race was akin to the Egyptians, or Africans) eyes creasing in the corners.  
  
" Thank-you Pippin Aragon."  
  
They walked for over half-an-hour in companionable silence, the hot suns bronzing Teal'c's golden skin, and burning Pippin's own, fair complexion. At one point, Teal'c ran his hand over his normally smooth head, and nearly recoiled in disgust; it was rough and uneven with a thick, black fuzz- hair.  
  
The day I return to the First World, he thought grimly, shall be a very fine day indeed.  
  
*  
  
Jack O'Neill leant against the helm of the wooden vessel, eyes half-shut, a faint smile ghosting his face as the wind rustled through his scraggly salt- and-pepper hair, cooling his flushed cheeks. Over three days ago, he had helped save the Northern Aresians, by transporting those who hadn't swum to the surface, and then to the strange coastline, by Rings. He had also, unfortunately, managed to knock himself out in the process, and, if Artemis- a scholar, a tad too much like Daniel for his liking- was to be believed, he had been out for nearly half the day, whilst they had uncovered the vessel, and Arris Frau- Artemis' mother and Chieftain to the village- had tried to rouse him- and at the least, care for the ageing Colonel.  
  
Behind him, a young female, inquisitive voice jerked him from his trance, reminding Jack of the very reason why he was standing there.  
  
" Are you okay, Colonel O'Neill?" It was Mary-Anne, her head tilted slightly, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Jack had been sitting in his cabin, sipping some herbal medicine Artemis Frau and Sophia Bells had made, in the false impression that it would cure his pounding headache, and ease the ache across his chest and back, from where he had been thrown half-way across the room where he had awoken in the underwater city. Instead, it had only enhanced his sea-sickness, and he had barely made it to the helm of the fragile, wooden ship to alleviate his insurgent stomach.  
  
Knowing that he looked a little…rough…( Jack had yet to master shaving using only a knife, on a rough, rickety boat, when his nerves were already shot to pieces), Jack spun around, one hand absently massaging his queasy belly, the other moving up to comb through his dishevelled hair, frowning when he realised just how long it was- a grey-brown fringe tickled his brow.  
  
" Oh, I'm just swell," Jack said in a quiet, muffled voice- almost a whimper- as the boat suddenly rocked, sending him tumbling backwards against the timber balustrade. His stomach rumbled warningly, and he made a face, adding in a strained voice; " Just Mother Nature giving me a little reminder to why I joined the Air Force and not the Marines."  
  
He spun around again as bile rose up his throat, and braced himself against the railing, and began to heave and retch miserably.  
  
'I suppose I should be grateful Daniel, Carter and Teal'c aren't here to see or experience this,' O'Neill thought grudgingly as he vomited, 'Although, knowing Daniel's background, he'd take to the ship like a dog to…water.'  
  
When at last, the torturous swaying and rocking had lessened, Jack leant weakly against the railings, swiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, and then, glancing down at it in disgust, wiped it against his frayed issue tee-shirt.  
  
" Godamn it," he rasped to himself, " I know they say everyone has their weaknesses, but you'd think my team would be enough. This is just plain cruel."  
  
Mary-Anne cautiously approached him, and pressed a cold, damp cloth to the back of his neck.  
  
" Your team?" she asked softly.  
  
Jack felt himself nod, and straightened, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He had managed- to an extent- to forget about his team; to allow himself to be caught up in the search for the ring and safety. Now, on a boat in the middle of nowhere, he had plenty of time to think about how they might be injured; or worse, dead.  
  
" Yeah, the other 'Chosen Ones', as you folks put it," he drawled. " They're like my family; Daniel, for example- he gave his life to save mine when we first met, the bastard." For a second, Jack was transported back to that horrible moment in time, when he had suddenly realised that there was no such thing as an acceptable casualty as he stared, frozen, at Daniel's still-smoking corpse. He blinked suddenly, shaking himself from his reverie." And Carter- hell, I don't understand what she says or means half the time, like Daniel- but she's a damn fine officer, even if she doesn't realise it." A faint smile flitted across his face, as he thought of when he had first met Sam- she had been a feisty, arguable, stubborn young Captain, fresh from the Pentagon; the wet dream of every young USAF officer or Marine. She had fought to earn his respect; something that most people either shied away from, or gave up on. Mary-Anne was staring at him, as if she sensed that he wasn't quite done, and grateful, Jack continued;  
  
" And then you have Teal'c. He isn't even human-" he waved at himself and Mary-Anne as an indication of what a 'human' was, in case they didn't have a word for it on this planet, "- he's a Jaffa." Mary-Anne stiffened, something flaring up in her eyes, and Jack held out a placating hand. " A good Jaffa. The best; he was First Prime to Apophis, and turned against him to save me, Daniel, Carter and a roomful of slaves."  
  
Mary-Anne seemed to accept this explanation, and chuckled.  
  
" You have quite an unusual family, O'Neill," she smiled beatifically.  
  
" Yah," he agreed softly. " Let's hope they're still alive when I find them."  
  
They stood in companionable silence for several minutes, watching the two suns rise to announce a new day, their pink-gold rays breaking through the steel-blue clouds, bouncing off the peaks of…Jack froze.  
  
" Are those what I think they?" he asked dumbly, images of the doomed Titanic running through his mind.  
  
Mary-Anne looked up, and positively beamed.  
  
" Ice-bergs," she whispered happily. " We're in the Southern sector."  
  
Jack pushed himself away from the balustrade to face her, his eyes quizzical, one eyebrow arched pointedly.  
  
" Southern sector?" he repeated, waiting for an explanation.  
  
" The planet is 'divided', if you will," Mary-Anne began, her eyes bright and happy, " into five different sections. The Centre- that is, the City of Ares- is located by the Chaap'ai, The Great Ring or the Stargate- whatever you prefer. The other four are the Northern, Southern, Eastern and Western sectors. The Northern- where you were located- and the Eastern sections are located under the ground or the sea." Mary-Anne's soft, pale eyes shifted to rest on Jack's hand radio- so far, untouched- and the Colonel could have sworn they twinkled. " The four different sections are mentioned in the prophecy; so if you wish to find your friends, or at least one of them, then here's the place to look."  
  
Jack's eyes widened in realisation, a smile spreading across his face, and he flew down the slick, salt-encrusted steps, to the other side of the ship, near to where Artemis stood, and unbuckled his radio from his fatigues jacket, thumbing the nearest button.  
  
" Carter?"  
  
The radio crackled, and for a moment, Jack thought he heard two women laughing, but when no-one replied, put it down to his imagination.  
  
" Carter?" he tried again, a little impatiently, " Are you receiving? Do you copy?"  
  
There was a long pause, and then a deafening crackle as a voice not that dissimilar to the bell-like tones of his second-in-command bellowed into their radio;  
  
" Yes sir! I am receiving loud and clear! It's good to hear from you, Colonel."  
  
Jack winced- as did Artemis and Mary-Anne- and dug his little finger into his ear, rotating it, as if it would silence- or at least dull- the ringing in his ears.  
  
After a second, he brought the radio to his mouth, and half-snapped;  
  
" Jeez Carter- deafen me, why don't ya?"  
  
He glanced up fascinated as they passed the two ice-bergs, vaguely remembering that an article in the National Geographic had once mentioned that over eighty-percent of ice-bergs (at least on Earth) were beneath the water.  
  
" Sorry sir-" Carter's meek, apologetic voice cut into his thoughts, " It's just good to hear someone else since Daniel cut me off."  
  
O'Neill's eyebrows flew into his hairline, and he muttered to himself, away from the radio, annoyed; " Oh he did now, did he? You had better have had a good reason, Danny-boy, because I believe the Doc mentioned Physical Evaluations the other day."  
  
Daniel- and then Sam- hated Physical Evaluations- mainly as it meant that he got behind on translation projects (much to the relief of his department, who, if Daniel was to be believed, worried about him far too much. Daniel had yet to discover that Jack and Janet threatened them with Physical Evaluations if they interfered with the important things in Daniel's life; such as sleep).  
  
His radio suddenly crackled again, and Sam asked in a soft, curious voice;  
  
" If you don't ask me asking sir, but where are you?"  
  
Faintly annoyed he mordantly replied;  
  
" Since you asked, I'm on a ship, surrounded by really, really cold water and heading towards some lovely, scenic cliffs."  
  
" No shit sir."  
  
In shock, Jack dropped the radio, his eyes wide; never, ever had he heard the Major swear- the worst expletive he had ever heard her use had been 'Hell' and 'Holy Hannah'.  
  
" Carter!" he reprimanded quickly, " Language!"  
  
" I'm sorry sir," her voice crackled over again, " It's just I happen to be on one of those cliffs you're approaching."  
  
The ship rocked suddenly, and Jack slipped backwards, his foot sliding out from him, the radio flying and landing on the floor. Pressing his hand against the small of his back, cursing loudly, he rose to his feet, breathing heavily, and stooped low to swipe up the radio. Quickly- almost desperately- he asked;  
  
" Where? Where are you, Major?"  
  
He peered up at the cliffs, and felt a smile break across his face as he spied two small, slim figures standing atop on one of the cliffs- Artemis seemed to catch sight of them too, as he steered the ship towards the base of the cliff. One of the figures, Jack realised belatedly, was waving frantically- Carter.  
  
" Here, sir, I'm her-"  
  
Sam's voice was cut off suddenly as the small figure jerked backwards, and then slipped- a small rock flew through the air, bouncing on one of the masts. Jack's breath hitched, his eyes widened, and dimly, he heard himself yell frantically into his radio;  
  
" Carter!"  
  
Detachedly, he watched in shock and horror as the person plummeted from the cliff, her expression something akin to terror and nausea. Artemis was yelling something, and pulling him back; tears burning in the back of his eyes, Jack didn't even resist, limply staggering back, like a rag-doll.  
  
A second later, the figure slammed into the space that he had been standing in, the wood straining and creaking, and lay there like a dead thing. Forgetting about protocol, Jack strained against Artemis, and called desperately;  
  
" Carter! Sam!"  
  
Her blue eyes- pained and dazed- met his for a brief second, and then rolled into the back of her head.  
  
Jack broke free of Artemis and rushed forward, two fingers flying to her slender neck; a pulse beat faintly, irregularly against his fingers, and for a moment he sighed in relief. Artemis fell to his knees next to Jack, Mary-Anne following him; the scholar held a towel, and Mary-Anne lifted Sam's head gingerly, allowing Artemis to slide it under the woman's head, helping to stem the blood-flow. He was calling to some of the crew, his voice desperate and worried; in a daze, Jack sunk back limply as some people pushed past him, and watched as strangers tried to save the life of his second-in-command.  
  
*  
  
The baby was crying; howling, actually.  
  
Daniel- dressed neatly in green fatigues, his feet bare- stared in disbelief at Sam, Jack, Teal'c and Bra'tac- they were staring at him expectantly, all ignoring the howling baby cradled in Oma Desala's arms.  
  
Oma, in fact, was staring aloofly- haughtily even- at him, as if she too, expected him to do something. A feeling of frustration rising up, Daniel stepped towards her, to where Sha're's baby lay, cradled in her arms. Immediately, she floated backwards, smiling coyly; Sha're's baby wept loudly.  
  
" Why won't you let me help him?" he asked heatedly. Overhead, dark clouds gathered and rumbled menacingly, thunder booming forebodingly and white-hot lightening streaked across the sky. Jack, Sam, Teal'c and Bra'tac stared back at him blankly; Oma Desala scowled.  
  
" Let me help him!"  
  
Daniel jerked awake to the distressed cry of a young child, a chill running over his body. He was slumped forward, half-on, half-off the horse he had been riding, his back rigid and his shoulder sore. Groggily, he straightened, and gave a soft cry of pain as he jolted his shoulder, searing pain racing from the wound to his elbow, arm and fingertips, like an electric shock. Closing his eyes, Daniel took a deep breath, and counted to ten, silently waiting out the nausea and the pain. When it had diminished to a dull throb, he opened his eyes again, and silently surveyed his surroundings.  
  
He was in the midst of the forest, shafts of pale, weak sunlight sifting through a sea of gold-green leaves and jagged branches, dancing over the tips of his auburn-gold hair, and highlighting the fine mane of the horse he rode.  
  
Mind foggy, and the world looping uneasily around him, Daniel frowned as he caught site of his tee-shirt; it was sodden, clinging to his chest, and his skin- from what he could see of it- was toad-white and clammy, sweat rolling off the tip of his nose.  
  
Another wail pierced the air and his skull, like a hacksaw, and Daniel winced, squinting his eyes in displeasure, and glanced automatically downwards, to where the cry originated.  
  
Cradled in weak, trembling arms- and it was a miracle that she still lay there at all- was a baby, its' face bright red, and screwed up as it howled miserably. His nightmare still fresh in his mind, Daniel gave a start, thinking for one wonderful second that it might be Sha're's baby- and then a memory flashed through his mind; a reminder of what had taken place the night before.  
  
Clara.  
  
In his arms was Baby Clara Bells; Daniel felt his brow furrow as another image- an image of little Tom, tumbling backwards off the horse, dead- flared in his mind, and his shoulder smarting, he half-twisted on the horse ( a grimace crossed his face as the movement tugged at the hole in his shoulder and a cracked rib), as if expecting to see Tom's motionless body a few yards behind him. What he saw instead, was what seemed like a wall of wood; tall, dark trees surrounded him, patches of a pale lavender morning sky peeking through a thicket of leaves and branches. Several feet away- almost invisible in the pools of shadow and light- was a small, silver tipped arrow- Daniel glanced down at his shoulder, and saw a patch of dried, black blood; evidently the arrow had worked itself free when he had been unconscious.  
  
Feeling sick, Daniel cradled Clara to his chest, and slipped ungracefully from the horse, trying- and failing poorly- to pretend that the movement didn't cost him a whole world of hurt.  
  
" Whoa," he whispered to the howling baby, running one hand over her forehead- it felt hot; clammy, " I don't think we're in Kansas anymore." The archaeologist frowned, and then added, his upper lip curled in confusion; " Of course, that would make sense, because we weren't in Kansas to begin with…"  
  
He smiled gently at Clara as her howls quietened to whimpers, and pressed his pinkie to her lips; immediately, her lips puckered, and she suckled at it, tiny teeth scraping against his skin.  
  
" Thought so," he rasped, " You're hungry." He cocked his head at her, and added as an afterthought; " Although you have a bit of a fever too."  
  
Come to think of it, he inwardly added as his legs trembled treacherously, and hot pain stabbed at his shoulder, so do I.  
  
As if drawn by a magnet, his eyes- wide and dilated- shifted back to where the arrow lay and the first stirrings of suspicion sparked in his mind; true, he and Sam had had the 'flu before Christmas, and his numerous injuries would result in his immune system weakening…but what if the arrow were poisoned?  
  
It made sense; his mind felt foggy and dull, the world disjointed and imposing. The Lordlings had only shot him with one arrow, rather than two, or three- and- Daniel's eyes narrowed- they had shot, not to kill, but to maim.  
  
" Is this some kind of hunt then?" Daniel snarled at the empty air, and the shifting shadows- " Some kind of sick, twisted game?"  
  
Clara gave a little half-moan, half-sob, and Daniel made 'hushing' noises, guilt sparking as he remembered his promise to Angie;  
  
" I won't let you grow up to be some fancy-woman, Clara, I promise," he whispered to the child, pulling down his- and consequentially- Tom's canvas bag. A jar of cream-coloured paste rolled from Tom's bag, and Daniel arched an eyebrow, stooping low to swipe it from the ground. He unscrewed the lid- a loose-fitting wooden cap- and sniffed at it suspiciously.  
  
A year spent on an Anthropological and Archaeological trip- courtesy to UCLA- with a local guide and her daughter (that Daniel had helped deliver a few months after the trip had begun) had left the archaeologist with a keen sense of smell; and in particular, the ability to distinguish what was suitable as baby food and what wasn't, by smell alone.  
  
With a half-smile, Daniel dipped his finger into the paste, flickered his tongue against it- apple and porridge from the taste of it- and pressed it to Clara's lips. She began to suckle eagerly, two small chubby hands reaching up to circle his thumb, pulling his hand down to her mouth.  
  
For the first time, since the whole mess with the Aresians had begun, Daniel chuckled understandingly.  
  
" Hungry, huh?" he said soothingly, and dipped his finger back into the paste, offering it to the baby. He leant against the back of a tree, and slid down, flinching when sodden, soft bark scraped against the wound on his shoulder; it was bleeding sluggishly- but not enough for him to worry too much.  
  
Clara gurgled her approval, and his smile widened to a grin.  
  
" Me too," he told her- she suckled harder at his finger, and gently nipped it as if to remind him that she was the most important and the most needy of the two. Jackson smiled indulgently at the child, and dipped two fingers into the jar, offering them to her, softly murmuring; " Not too much now, you'll be sick."  
  
Fifteen minutes later, and after Daniel had patted her back, Clara slept soundly, one thumb stuck firmly in her mouth, cradled in his arms. Tilting his head back, so that it rested against the tree, Daniel managed to free one arm, and fumbled with his pack. Cold, numb fingers curled around a half- crushed MRE, and making a face, Daniel forced the plastic seal open; inside were the crumbled remains of unsalted crackers.  
  
Unenthusiastically, he tilted the packet so that some of the crumbs fell onto his open palm, and crammed them into his mouth, forcing down the wave of bile that the action produced.  
  
" Wonder how Sam, Jack and Teal'c are doing," Daniel mused out loud, needing to hear another voice. " Wonder if they're still alive."  
  
The very suggestion that his team-mates- his family- were dead sent a shudder throughout his body, making his teeth chatter, and his hands- which, up until that point, had remained steadfast- began to tremble.  
  
God, I hope they are, he thought. Part of the reason that teams like SG-11 were forever being sent off to the more…peaceful planets of the Universe, was because they had been screwed around so many times by the Stargate; they weren't even the original SG-11 that Daniel had known when he had first joined the SGC; three-quarters of the original SG-11 had been killed in his first year by Jonas Hanson- Sam's ex-fiancé- and the rest had been killed two years later, when they had been sent to a Jaffa training planet. With the exception of SG-1 (who unfortunately, would always be the most), they were one of the most cursed teams on the base.  
  
Daniel really, really didn't want SG-1 to become like another SG-11; their team-members forever dying and being replaced by someone new and inexperienced.  
  
Casting his eyes skyward, Daniel spoke aloud, as if the spirits of Sam, Jack and Teal'c would hear him, and would actually listen to him;  
  
" Stay alive guys," he murmured, " For fuck's sake, stay alive."  
  
*  
  
It was evening by the time that Teal'c and Pippin arrived at the brown blur- a building as he had first thought. Pippin had spent the day telling Teal'c tales of his family- of his cousin, Bursa, and his father- and likewise, Teal'c had told Pippin tales of how he had first become First Prime, of his joy when Ryac had been born- tales from how Ryac had been brainwashed by Apophis, to Major Carter being made into a host, to Daniel Jackson losing his appendix.  
  
" O'Neill is, most unfortunately, an avid fisher, although there are no fish in the lake he fishes in," he was growling unhappily when Pippin suddenly froze, eyes fixed on the building, and the two setting suns behind it.  
  
" The suns are going?" he asked, almost fearfully, watching in awe as the blue-pink sky steadily deepened to a cherry red, the fat white clouds changing into a miasma of gold. Teal'c shot Pippin a fleeting glance, his face a mask of sympathy and understanding; the first few months that he had spent on Earth, after joining the SGC, had been spent miles underground, in the heart of the mountain- the Joint Chiefs of Staff of the Pentagon had deemed him to be a too big of a security risk to allow to be on 'topside' as the Tau'ri so often labelled the surface. His first true night on Earth- actually on Earth, instead of underneath it- had been spent in awe at O'Neill's house, staring up at the sky as the one sun set in a blaze of red, vivid orange, gold and streaks of purple-pink. So he too, understood Pippin's wonder; understood what it felt like to spend forever (or in his case, several Tau'ri months) living underneath the ground, away from the splendour of the sun, and the elegance of the moon.  
  
" It will return in a few hours, Pippin Aragon." Teal'c reassured the other man, " It is just resting." Feeling faintly ridiculous, the large Jaffa pointed at the small moon, and said to Pippin, as if he were his son, Ryac; " See? The moon has come out to take its' place, so it can sleep."  
  
Pippin dipped his head in acknowledgement, a small smile stretching across his face.  
  
" It is beautiful," he murmured, staring up in awe at the silver-pink globe, and then turned to Teal'c. " There were days- months even- that I spent, wondering if I would ever live to see the sun and the moon." He caught site of the granite building, and shook his head whimsically. " Listen to me! I sound like an old fool…talking about the sun and moon when there are far more important things to do. Come Teal'c!"  
  
In that second, it was as if Teal'c were back down in the caves, Pippin- the Chieftain- smiling whimsically, and crying, "To the City!"  
  
Stroking the gem of his ring, Teal'c staggered after Pippin- his symbiote hissed angrily, sending little waves of white-hot pain to Teal'c; a reminder of the Jaffa's need for Kel'No'Reem…  
  
You shall wait, Teal'c told Junior irritably, my friends' needs are far more important than yours or mine…  
  
The inside of the building was different to what the Jaffa had expected; instead of a simple décor, the walls were adorned with gold, silken sheets lined with crimson; primitive pictographs of the four symbols of the four different rings decorated it, telling the tale of the prophecy.  
  
In the middle of the room was a plateau, small pictographs engraved around the bottom; dust stirred as Teal'c and Pippin marched across the room, settling over Teal'c's boots. Teal'c stared dubiously at it, but Pippin, for his credit, seemed to know what the plateaux was.  
  
" It's one of the Transporters, built by our ancestors," Pippin explained softly, staring at the platform in awe. The Ex-Chieftain turned back to Teal'c, his eyes resting on the ring he had given the Jaffa only a few hours before. In a smooth, steady voice, he continued; " To return to the City of Ares, you- we must use this, using your ring like a key."  
  
Teal'c glanced down at his ring, light dancing over the top of the gem, and then strode powerfully across the room, until he stood directly opposite the platform. In one swift move, he stooped low; there was a small hole, and Teal'c jammed his ring against it, slotting it into the 'keyhole'. There was a low hum, a spark of energy, and Teal'c abruptly pulled the ring out, and dubiously over at Pippin. The younger man smiled wisely and stood up onto the platform, and gestured that Teal'c should do the same. White- hot knives driving into his pouch, where his symbiote writhed and hissed deliberately, Teal'c followed Pippin's actions, and stepped up onto the platform; Pippin drew him close, and a low hum reverberated in the back of his head, the floor and walls shaking, dust jumping… there was a white flash, a tugging sensation at his navel, and Teal'c and Pippin stumbled from the platform.  
  
When the light had faded, Teal'c opened his eyes and blinked owlishly.  
  
Finally he spoke, his voice deep;  
  
" We are not in the City of Ares, Pippin Aragon."  
  
Pippin whirled back on the platform, his eyes wide.  
  
" No, we're not," he agreed, astonished.  
  
They were in a cave, dark tunnels snaking off on either side of them, pale light filtering through them. Opposite Teal'c was a raised dais, in which four platforms stood, almost hidden by the shadows. In the distance, water crashed and thundered against the wall of the cavern, and the large Jaffa could smell the strong, salty stench of the sea.  
  
A sudden noise made him whirl around in suspicion, bringing up his staff weapon. What he saw made his eyes widen in horror, his cartouche creasing in two; slinking into the cave via the two tunnels were hoards upon hoards of what Teal'c presumed were Lordlings, feral grins crossing their faces, their eyes narrowed. In their hands, they carried pikes, cross-bows, a quiver of arrows slung across their backs; one even carried a sword.  
  
" Pippin," Teal'c called warningly in a low voice; the man whirled around, and froze as he caught site of the men.  
  
" Lordlings," he whispered, confirming what Teal'c already knew.  
  
Before he had a chance to even shout out a proper warning, the Lordlings attacked; loading arrows into cross-bows, raising their pikes menacingly. Scowling, Teal'c raised his staff weapon; a bolt shot across the room, slamming into the bare midriff of a young Lordling; with a shriek of pain, he crumpled to the floor. There was a whistle of air, and an arrow punched into the cave wall behind him.  
  
" Pippin!" Teal'c roared as another arrow flew, narrowly missing the young man; Pippin ducked, a look of alarm slowly spreading across his face. He was, Teal'c realised, eyeing the four platforms on the other side of the room.  
  
" We can't beat them Teal'c; there are too many!" he yelled, his fingers circling around a rock, and hurling it across the room- it struck a Lordling in the temple, and the man crumpled to the floor. Teal'c arched an eyebrow, impressed. Evidently, Pippin was not as gentle as he had first appeared.  
  
" We must fight them, Pippin Aragon," Teal'c roared back, " If we are to save your planet…"  
  
And then another arrow flew, punching a hole into his upper thigh, and Teal'c bellowed in pain, losing himself in the dance of battle.  
  
*  
  
The boat was swaying again, as outside a storm raged. After Carter had crashed onto the deck, Artemis had steered the vessel past the cliffs to what appeared to be some kind of natural harbour, and had then anchored the ship, so they could tend to the unconscious Sam.  
  
Jack's stomach lurched treacherously as the ship rocked violently, the old timber frame shaking and creaking ominously, and he tightened his grip on the canteen of water he held, focussing on the floor as he popped two travel sickness pills into his mouth, forcing them down with lukewarm water.  
  
He was sitting in what seemed to be the Captain's cabin; a map of Ares, yellow with age, pinned to the wall. A clock, coated in dust, sat on a bedside table, and the walls were adorned with deep red velvet drapes. They half-surrounded a small cot, gold gilded frames pinning it to the wall- unlike Jack's chair, which rocked and slipped rather alarmingly across the room as the ship swayed. In the bed, her head swathed in bandages and supported by a mountain of pillows, was Samantha Carter.  
  
His Second-in-Command was a lot paler than the ageing Colonel remembered, and was somehow gaunter as well. Her short blonde hair- what he could make of it, anyway- was tinged brown-red from blood, and was matted, sticking up in spikes, her skin seeming to stretch over cheekbones that jutted out sharply, almost translucent. Her lips were pale, thin and cracked; but despite all outward appearances, her skin was warm to touch; almost too warm.  
  
" Well," Jack swallowed painfully, his throat tightening dangerously, " What d'ya reckon her chances are? Will she live?"  
  
He was looking at Mary-Anne Bells expectantly, the little permanent crease between his brow growing that more prominent. Despite the technological capabilities of the Aresians, Mary-Anne was working only by a lantern that Artemis was holding patiently for her ( a trinket that they had found on board), pressing a cold cloth against Carter's neck; every now and again, Carter would moan, and twist in the sheets, her hands flailing weakly.  
  
" She should be dead," Mary-Anne said shakily, her face almost as pale as Carter's, "People- at least, my people- don't fall from those kind of heights and survive."  
  
" Neither do mine," Jack promised, his face pinched. Images of Sam plummeting off the lip of the cliff, whilst he stood, helpless and watching in abject horror, kept on running through his head, mixed with images of Darner pressing a knife against Daniel's throat; images of Teal'c being led away by Maybourne two years ago; images of the Jaffa beating the crap out of Teal'c, and then Daniel, a year ago on Hathor's planet; images of Carter close to tears because her father was dying; images of a little boy, blue eyes open and unseeing…  
  
Jack violently shook his head, clearing his thoughts like feathers scattering in the wind, and tightened his grip on the canteen, not even noticing when the metal gave way beneath his fingers.  
  
" But she'll live, right?" he tried again.  
  
Mary-Anne avoided his eyes.  
  
" I can't promise you anything, O'Neill," she said softly, " least of all her life. She has a fever, her skin is burnt, and she has a serious head wound. If she survives tonight, she'll probably live."  
  
Blood rushed to his ears, and for one second, the world swayed and looped alarmingly.  
  
Abruptly, O'Neill stood up, his heart hammering in his throat, and staggered from the small room, into the dark, dank and musty-smelling hallway, and crashed to his knees, white-hot knives stabbing at his knees; despite what his team-mates and friends thought, he hadn't been kidding on Shyla's planet about his 'little L.C.A' problem.  
  
His stomach recoiled and bile rose up Jack's throat; tears burning in the back of his eyes, he reached out, snagged what was probably some very important, very old artefact, and began to retch angrily.  
  
It's just the sea-sickness, he promised himself, this isn't a sign of weakness, it's a diagnosed condition…  
  
The creaking of the floor-boards behind him heralded the arrival of one of the women- the floor tended to sink when the men walked, whereas it just creaked when a woman walked across it- and instinctively, Jack's hand twitched, and snaked to his hip, where his pistol rested.  
  
" You're upset," it was a young voice; Jack turned, and relaxed at the sight of Sophia Bells, her eyes wide and sympathetic. She had been in the room with Artemis and Mary-Anne, hidden away in a corner, stirring a pot of soup for Sam, should she awaken.  
  
" Damn right," Jack sarcastically snapped back before he could stop himself, " My team-mate might die and you're acting like I'm acting like some kind of drama queen…"  
  
For her credit, Sophia didn't even flinch.  
  
" But there's more," she pressed. " You're not just worried about Samantha Carter."  
  
Jack's eyes narrowed, frustration and pent-up anger beginning to well up in the back of his mind, although he kept quiet.  
  
" Your other two team-mates, perhaps?" Sophia guessed, lifting the corners of her mouth into a knowing smile. The anger that had been growing in the pit of his stomach died away, and Jack felt his face crease into a worried frown.  
  
" Not Teal'c," he finally mumbled, ashamed that he had lost it so easily, and so publicly, " Teal'c can take care of himself. It's Daniel I'm worried about. Carter said he cut her off…" Daniel cutting off another team-mate never meant anything good; the last time he had cut himself off, or hadn't replied to a radio call, it had been because he had been dead.  
  
That's not strictly true, Jack's inner voice corrected, you never found out if he was dead or just unconscious, remember? The loops started just as Carter was about to tell you.  
  
" Do you not trust Daniel, O'Neill?" Sophia asked gently- although her normally soft eyes were dark with annoyance.  
  
Jack scowled.  
  
" What kind of dumb-ass question is that?" he snarled, " Of course I do."  
  
Sophia lifted an eyebrow.  
  
" Then trust that he will return to you, alive and well, as you shall trust that Samantha Carter shall survive the night, and as we trust that the prophecy will come true," she said wisely.  
  
There was a long silence, in which Jack stared at the girl, admiration sparking in his eyes, a faint smile tugging the corners of his lips.  
  
" Wise words," he finally said, awed.  
  
Sophia smiled her mysterious smile.  
  
" You're a wise man, O'Neill," she replied.  
  
*  
  
Major Samantha Carter stood on a cliff.  
  
Wind howled around her, whipping her short blonde hair, so that her fringe stood on end, and her tee-shirt was clinging to her wet, clammy skin. Yet, despite the fact that there was a warm cave only a few yards away, she remained where she was, staring out at the icy-cold ocean. Behind her- and she knew this, despite not having turned around to look- stood an older woman, dressed in a long cream tunic and knee-length pants. Her hair was grizzled, and her hand curled around a far smaller one; a little boy, named Jayama (although she had always known him as Jayam), with a mop of sandy blonde hair and light blue eyes.  
  
Sam blinked, and then looked down at her hand; it was curled around her hand radio, the thumb lightly resting on a large red button, as if she were in the action of speaking to someone.  
  
A cranky voice crackled through;  
  
" Carter! Language!"  
  
Again, Sam blinked in surprise, and found her lips moving in response, words that she couldn't possibly be saying pouring from her mouth;  
  
" I'm sorry sir," she said contritely, " It's just I happen to be on one of those cliffs you're sailing to."  
  
In the pause that followed, Sam glanced down, and to her surprise, saw a long Grecian vessel that hadn't been there before; it's masts billowing out, a small, but unidentifiable flag being whipped back and forth by the wind.  
  
" Where? Where are you, Major?"  
  
As if she had no volition of her own, Sam's arm raised up into a wave- a ring glinted from her finger- and heard herself calling into the radio;  
  
" Here! I'm her-"  
  
And then the ground gave way.  
  
She plummeted, tumbled, falling down to the approaching wooden deck, her scream drowned out by Jack's and Amba's…  
  
Sam rose to full consciousness slowly and painfully; her head felt as if it had a screwdriver in her skull, and her tongue was thick, fuzzy and dry. Her cheeks felt too hot, her skin clammy; and someone was talking to her.  
  
The words were soft and muffled; but were distinguishably male. Whoever he was, he seemed to also be patting her hand encouragingly, as if he was trying to rouse her from sleep.  
  
With a low groan that made her head throb, Sam tried to force open the leaden weights that had taken the form of her eyelids; they fluttered weakly, and it took several tries before she was able to open them.  
  
" Carter! Mary-Anne, she's awake!"  
  
Instantaneously, Sam squeezed her sticky eyes shut, her face twisting into a grimace, a whimper of pain mewling out from her mouth; the man patted her hand, stroking her sweaty brow, and hissed softly;  
  
" Shit. I'm sorry; come on Carter- Sam- you've been out for thirty-six hours already; wake up."  
  
Reluctantly, Sam gritted her teeth, and opened her eyes again, and then wished she hadn't; Jack O'Neill had seemed to have gained a twin, and the world spun and swayed cruelly. She blinked, and ran a tongue over dry lips. Her arm, she realised belatedly, ached and throbbed, and she glanced down at it; it had been wrapped up into a neat, tidy sling.  
  
She knew she looked like crap and then some, but Sam smiled anyway.  
  
" Sir," she breathed, ecstatic that she had finally found a team-mate. The Colonel obviously felt the same, as he suddenly gave a muted whoop on her behalf, and punched the air triumphantly.  
  
" Thirty-six hours, Colonel?" Sam asked suddenly, remembering what he had said. She grimaced as the world swayed again, and the two O'Neill's lurched from side to side, and blinked, trying to clear her double vision.  
  
Jack glanced at his watch.  
  
" Well, pretty much," he admitted, " Although you did wake up for a brief moment this morning. You were pretty out of it, but it gave us the chance to put your arm in a sling, and coerce you into taking some pain-killers."  
  
That explained why the pain seemed so…dull; but not why she had double vision, or why she had trouble making out what the Colonel was saying. Clearing her throat, Sam lifted her good arm, and ran her hand over head; her prying fingers brushed over linen- a bandage- and blood-matted hair.  
  
" Mary-Anne thinks you have a concussion," O'Neill said suddenly, as if this explained everything. Sam's eyes flickered over to the corner, where two young girls stood; one of them with bright red hair smiled, and she assumed that she was Mary-Anne.  
  
" She's probably right," Sam murmured, " considering how far I fell."  
  
She cleared her throat again, and Jack pressed a glance of murky water into her hand. Carter looked dubiously at it, and he rolled his eyes, and half- heartedly sardonically snapped;  
  
" It's clean. Jeez Carter, if I wanted to poison you, I would have done it shortly after you fell from that cliff. Now drink it before I make it into an order."  
  
Trusting the Colonel's judgement, Sam lifted the glass, and forced the concoction down her throat; the water was cold, and tasted strangely of herbs- Sam found her eyes drawn suspiciously back to Mary-Anne at this.  
  
" It is water mixed with healing herbs," the girl cheerfully explained, " to help soothe your fever."  
  
There was a long pause as Sam finished drinking the brew, before Jack suddenly broke the silence with;  
  
" Well, you've been out a long time. Do you think you're strong enough to check out the deck?" O'Neill turned to the second girl, and added, " Sophia, could you tell Artemis to pull up the anchor, prepare the ship for sailing and to take the quickest route to the City of Ares."  
  
The young girl nodded, and disappeared into the shadows, presumably rushing up to tell Artemis to release the anchor.  
  
Jack turned back to Sam.  
  
" Well?" he lifted an inquisitive eyebrow, quirking his lips into a false smile. As he had told Sophia- and later, Mary-Anne- he wasn't just worried about Sam; he was also worried about Daniel, and to a certain extent, Teal'c. Neither two responded to their radios when he tried to raise them, and he was worried that both might be injured- or worse, dead.  
  
Sam's voice broke through his reverie; clear and bright.  
  
" I'd love to sir," she swung her legs out from under the covers- her fatigues were crumpled and smelly (although Jack had decided to hide this fact from her until they were all safely tucked under the Infirmary blankets), and her boots rested by the cot. The Major bent low awkwardly, snatching up the boots with her one hand- the fall had broken her arm- and flinging them onto the bed, beside her. It took Sam over half-an-hour (she refused to let the Colonel help her) to put them on, and even then, the laces weren't nearly as tight as they were meant to be.  
  
Sam stood unsteadily, swaying faintly as the boat rocked gently- the storm had died, much to Jack's relief, the night before. Her eyes were slightly dilated; her good hand blindly seeking for support. Rolling his eyes, Jack grasped her hand and wrapped an arm around Sam's waist, and helped her walk out of the room, through a musty-smelling hall, and up some stairs.  
  
Strong sunlight poured onto the stairway, as Jack pushed at the door, and the two of the cringed, squinting against the light as they stumbled onto the deck.  
  
Her blue eyes wide, Sam gaped at the deck; dozens of people were roaming the decking; several were attending to the masts, raising them- and another five were pulling up the anchor, their muscles bulging. The girl named Sophia, and another man, who Sam took to be Artemis, were at the wheel, gazing out in trepidation.  
  
" Sam!"  
  
With Jack's help, Sam whirled around, and then grinned.  
  
Amba and Jayam were standing near the boat, by the grassy embankment, waving frantically at her.  
  
Sam hobbled over to her, cringing inwardly when her eyes caught site of a bloodstained spot on the deck, the wood splintered.  
  
That's where I fell, she observed with a shudder.  
  
" Amba, Jayam," Sam warmly called, and gave a little wave with her good arm. The two appeared to be arguing with one of the crew, and Sam turned back to O'Neill, smiling crookedly.  
  
He grinned back, and rubbed his hands together.  
  
" Sweet," he gloated, " I get to play Captain." Her eyebrows arched, Sam watched as the ageing man marched over to where Amba, Jayam and the arguing crew were, and snapped something at them; it seemed to work, because ten minutes later, Amba and Jayam stood onboard. Jack swung Jayam up onto his shoulders as Amba rushed across the decking, and hugged Sam tightly.  
  
" You're alive," she proclaimed happily.  
  
Winded, her broken arm throbbing, Sam breathlessly replied; " Yep. I'm alive." She waited until Jack had joined them, his face twisted into a grimace (Jayam was clutching at his hair, and pulling, as if he were a horse) before she added, " We're travelling to the City of Ares, Amba. Feel like joining us? It would save you having to move to another village again."  
  
There was a long silence as the boat rocked and moved away from the embankment, and Amba grinned, her eyes widening. In those few seconds, she actually looked young again, her eyes shining with happiness. Then, finally, she smiled, and said;  
  
" I would be honoured to travel with the Chosen Ones."  
  
*  
  
Daniel didn't know how long he had been hiding in the forest- it was hard to judge whether it was day or night when so little light filtered through the tree leaves and he didn't know how long he had been unconscious.  
  
His cheeks felt too hot to touch, yet he was constantly shivering and shuddering, his stomach cramping up with hunger- he was giving Baby Clara, who had grown steadily worse, all the food and water, in the hopes that it would cure her. His broken ribs throbbed- although the blue-black bruises were beginning to fade to a dull yellow, and when he touched his head, it stung, and sticky blood would come away at his fingertips. He didn't even want to move his shoulder, let alone touch it; from what little he could see of it without his glasses, the skin was inflamed and infected.  
  
By all accounts, he should have been dead.  
  
Don't complain, his inner voice (sounding unerringly like Jack), lap it up while you'll still alive.  
  
Had the situation not been so dire, Daniel would have laughed at that; but as it were, he had heard rustling in the bushes ten minutes previously, and had thought he had seen the glint of a sword, or an axe- the Lordlings.  
  
The horse Angie had given him and Tom was grazing nearby, although Daniel had no plans to use it again; he was having enough trouble walking as it was- riding would be virtually impossible. His brow creased into a little frown of pain, his lips pressed tightly together to suppress his whimpers, Daniel lifted his dog-tags over his head, and slipped his ring off his finger. Clara was cradled awkwardly in his 'bad' arm, her head lolling back awkwardly, cheeks flushed with fever. She was either asleep or unconscious; in his own fevered state, Daniel couldn't tell.  
  
The world looping, Daniel slipped the ring onto his chain- it clashed noisily against the dog-tags- and then slipped it over Clara's head, and tucked it under her tiny tunic, so that the ring and the dog-tags rested by her knee.  
  
" Shh, shh," he crooned softly as the baby moaned, and then stumbled through the knee-length rushes, his skin prickling, his stomach cramping once more. Hours earlier, he had spied a tunnel, half-hidden by thistles and bushes, and Angie's plea echoing in the back of his mind, he had come up with a plan:  
  
The Aresians, he had theorised, had prophesised that alien explorers would discover the lost rings; but there had been no mention of whether they would survive to activate the weapon, or whether an Aresian would do that.  
  
His plan had been to hide his ring on Clara- hiding her, consequentially in the bushes, so the Lordlings wouldn't discover her- in the hopes that an Aresians, or even his team-mates, if they were alive and nearby, would discover the baby and the ring and save the planet.  
  
His heart was hammering in the back of his throat as Daniel set the baby on the ground, laying his camouflage Macintosh over her, and then, his back stiff and sore, straightened.  
  
The trees rustled menacingly and something glinted; Daniel swallowed and prayed that they hadn't noticed him hide the child, and then strode away from the tunnel, facing the trees.  
  
" Come on, you sons-of-bitches," he snarled loudly- loudly enough to disturb the cluster of birds and butterflies, " I know you're there. Come on out."  
  
Not for the first time, Daniel wished he had his pistol on him, as the trees simply exploded, men wearing sickening smiles, brandishing axes and swords, some riding horses ( he swallowed at this; he had hoped they would be on foot), leaping out at him.  
  
Daniel waited a heartbeat, and then twisted on his heel, and ran, doubling over, his eyes screwed up in pain, nostrils flaring; an arrow flew past his head and landed, with a thunk into a nearby tree.  
  
The Lordlings roared, and began to follow him- Daniel twisted and threw himself behind a tree as four more arrows soared overhead. He staggered and one of the Lordlings on horseback snarled at him;  
  
" You are surrounded, Chosen; why do you still run? Do you wish to prolong your death?"  
  
Despite himself, Daniel picked himself off the dirt, and stumbled, his legs buckling- to his relief, he was several yards away from the cave, and all the Lordling's attention was aimed at him, rather than Clara.  
  
At least she would live.  
  
" It'd be nicer if I didn't die at all," Daniel mumbled crankily beneath his breath, his chest tight; it hurt to breathe- black pain would flare across his chest when he tried.  
  
The Lordling who had addressed him gave what sounded like a half-snicker, interspersed with a snarl and a growl, and gave a tight smile to the Lordling closest to Daniel; the man raised his cross-bow, looked Daniel in the eyes, and in that moment, Daniel realised all was lost; he would die…  
  
" Lordlings, kree!" The cry came from the half-hidden tunnel, and was followed by the blast of a horn; deep and loud- the very trees seemed to shake at its' call. The archer, in his surprise, let go of the string; the arrow flew, Daniel ducked, and the shot went wide, missing him and the tree altogether- it slammed into a boulder, and snapped at the force. " Lordlings, kree! Y Aan! Y Aan!"  
  
Daniel didn't understand the command, but quite frankly, he didn't care; several of the Lordlings had turned around, and were darting back to the half-hidden tunnel, including the Lordling that had been on horseback. They bypassed Baby Clara completely, unsheathing swords and quivers of arrows.  
  
Daniel blinked, and before the other Lordlings could do a thing about it, he bunched up his muscles and pushed himself away from the tree, barrelling through the Lordlings that were left; the pain flared up again in his chest, and sweat poured, like tears, down his overheated cheeks, the world a myriad of looping colours.  
  
A roar rose up behind him; the remaining Lordlings had noticed he had disappeared, and biting his lip in fear, Daniel doubled over, and carried on running.  
  
I'm not going to die, he inwardly chanted, I'm not going to die…  
  
*  
  
They had been sailing for several hours, past the cliffs and a smoking village; past the fields and the mountains and the forests, and past the ice-caps, before Artemis finally called for a halt.  
  
Sam was on the deck, sitting patiently, allowing her bandage to be changed; hissing only when Mary-Anne pressed a cold compress against it. Jayam was having what seemed to be the time of his life, roaming the hidden rooms; he had even discovered what seemed to be the Aresian version of a cigarette lighter and a box of Molotov cocktails, or the Aresian equivalent, much to Jack's horror.  
  
As the ship lurched to a halt- Sam gripped the side of the box she sat on, Amba swayed and slammed into a wooden post- footsteps thundered on the wooden stairs, and Jack stumbled onto the deck, his dark eyes demanding and annoyed. He was, Sam reflected with a grin, slightly green, his own bruises the only variation to the sickly colour. Silently, she and Mary-Anne watched as he stalked the length of the deck, over to where Artemis, Sophia Bells and Richard Bells- the two girl's father- stood, talking quietly.  
  
An albatross shrieked overhead, soaring across the endless blue sky; there were no clouds in sight.  
  
" Why did you stop?" he demanded, annoyed.  
  
Artemis regarded him coolly, before he smiled gracefully and nodded to a cluster of caves and a large, white cliff that dominated the skyline.  
  
" You wished to take the quickest route to the City of Ares, so you could help your team-mate," Artemis began slowly, nodding over to where Carter sat, and Jack nodded impatiently. He had been catching up on what little sleep he had had- although secretly, he was glad that his sleep had been interrupted; he had been having a nightmare about all the times he had failed his team.  
  
" Yeah," Jack arched an eyebrow, glaring up at Artemis intolerantly, " What about it?"  
  
Artemis waved a hand at the cliff, and then more specifically, at a carefully concealed cave.  
  
" The Transporters that you and Major Carter will need to take to get to the City of Ares, lie in that cave."  
  
Jack's mouth dropped into a silent 'oh', and he had the grace to look embarrassed, his cheeks flushing pink. Richard Bells smiled faintly, and he broke the uncomfortable silence;  
  
" We were discussing, Chosen-" both Sam and Jack flinched; people had taken to calling them that of late, and it bugged the hell out of them. "- who was going to remain on the ship, and who was going to accompany you to the City of Ares."  
  
Richard gestured to Artemis, Mary-Anne and Sophia, and continued;  
  
" As you already know, my family, the Bells, were going to join you in the City of Ares, and try and contact our family from there; and Artemis joined you, so he could also visit the City of Ares." Richard then gestured to the crew, " But these people were an offering from Arris Frau- they have no wish to go to the City of Ares."  
  
Jack nodded; and then smiled simply.  
  
" They don't have to accompany us if they don't want to," he pointed out, " It's only a five-day journey- at the most- back to the Northern Sector."  
  
Artemis nodded, and opened his mouth to say something; his voice was drowned out by a loud cry, and a whistle of air. There was a loud thunk, and Jack, Sam, Artemis, Richard, Mary-Anne and Sophia- Amba and Jayam were below deck, thankfully- whirled around, to where the noise had originated.  
  
Jack's eyes widened.  
  
Buried up to the little quiver of feathers, the metal tip protruding from the other side of the wooden post, was a thick arrow. It was a few scant inches away from Carter's heart (she was leaning against the wooden post) and the Major's eyes were wide, and she seemed unsure of her ability to stand.  
  
Another arrow flew, and someone within the cave roared angrily, loudly, as it tore into the ship's mast.  
  
" I recognise that roar," Jack grinned suddenly, " Teal'c!"  
  
Sam stood up suddenly, scooting away from the arrow, and called over to the Colonel;  
  
" It sounds like he's in trouble, sir," she looked dubiously at the Molotov cocktails, and added, "We ought to help him, sir."  
  
But Jack was already racing across the deck, to her pack, and was pulling out a pistol and a zatnikitel; Sam felt at her hip with her good hand; her MP-5 was hanging from the belt- it had been a miracle it hadn't gone off when she had fallen, the Major reflected with a shiver.  
  
Some of the crew, Sam noted, were lowering the plank-board, so that it rest tenaciously against the cave entrance; Mary-Anne was opening the box of Molotov cocktails, stuffing dirty rags into them, thumbing the Aresian lighter; the flames licking the material; she threw the bottle, and a second later, there was a muffled explosion- dirt and glass flew at them, cutting their arms and slashing their clothes.  
  
Unhooking her rifle, Sam staggered across the deck, over to the boardwalk- Jack raced past her with a burning Molotov cocktail, his zatnikitel raised. There was another explosion of light, dirt and glass, and blue electricity shot over the rocks- someone yelled.  
  
And then Sam was actually in the cave, slugging it out with a Lordling, ramming her MP-5 into the jaw of some young man; snarling and spitting at him, like a cat raising her claws to strike. Teal'c was across the cavern, his leg bent, face ashen- a Lordling had his cross-bow raised…  
  
"No!" Sam yelled, and she raised her rifle, and before she could think, pulled the trigger; there was an eruption of noise, and then blood and gore splattered the walls as the Lordling slumped to the floor, a neat round hole in his forehead where there hadn't been one before. A self-satisfied smile curved Sam's lips as she met Teal'c's eyes across the cavern; and then, from nowhere, a foreign cry and a horn blasted, and she, Jack, Teal'c and the crew of the vessel, were lost in the battle.  
  
*  
  
" Lordlings, kree! Lordlings, kree! Y Aan! Y Aan!"  
  
Teal'c glanced up in abject horror as a horn- carved from some kind of tusk- was sounded, a deep, rich, bass sound reverberating up the cavern and out the tunnels; it was a simple battle command that were warning the other Lordlings that the Chosen had arrived. At his elbow, Jack O'Neill staggered as his jaw became the recipient of a young Lordling's fist, and Teal'c gave an angry roar, and raised his staff weapon, firing; he killed both the man who had hurt O'Neill and the man who had raised the alarm.  
  
A few seconds later more men- most archers, although one or two carried swords, poured into the cavern; there was one second of silence, and then Pippin and O'Neill were dragging him backwards- Teal'c raised his eyes and instantly saw why.  
  
Samantha Carter and a redheaded woman carried a crate between them; both women were smiling rather maliciously and in their hands, they held ornamentally carved lighters, a little blue flame dancing as they thumbed the side of the lighters.  
  
" This is for everything you've put us, and the Aresians for, you sons-of- bitches!" Sam roared and then she and Mary-Anne flung their lit lighters into the box, kicking it into the centre of the room. At the same time, the Aresians, O'Neill, Carter, Mary-Anne, Teal'c and Pippin curled into balls, pressing their faces against the wall, their eyes screwed shut.  
  
The Lordlings, if anything, were confused.  
  
They stared at the Aresians and the Chosen uncertainly, raising their swords and crossbows. They didn't have long to wait though; there was a split-second pause, and the box simply exploded, killing those who stood around it, spraying shards of glass around the cavern and scorching the backs of the Aresians and SG-1.  
  
When the fire and the smoke had diminished somewhat, Teal'c raised his head, and arched an eyebrow, impressed.  
  
" That was a most effective weapon O'Neill," he remarked, a rather smug smile tugging at the corners of his massive lips, " What was it?"  
  
Jack stood shakily, wiping away soot and blood- he had a nasty bruise developing along his jaw-line, but apart from that, little else- and gave a snort.  
  
" Molotov cocktails," he said a little breathlessly, " A little home-made bomb the Aresians had made a few thousand years ago." He nodded at Carter and Mary-Anne. "Good thinking Major, Mary-Anne. I think you two pretty much saved all our asses then." Carter had the grace to wipe away her smug smile; Mary-Anne, Teal'c noticed, did not.  
  
Jack wiped away a bead of sweat, and inhaled sharply, before turning back to Teal'c, grinning happily.  
  
" Nice to see you Teal'c," he cocked his head, " However pale and battered you might be."  
  
Pippin blushed.  
  
" It is good to see you also, O'Neill, Major Carter." Teal'c favoured the two with a weary smile, his eyes narrowing as he caught site of Sam's flushed face, and the bandage wrapped around her forehead.  
  
There was a long silence, in which some of the Aresian crew disappeared around the tunnel bend and back onto the ship- some, Teal'c realised, had only stayed because it had been their duty to protect O'Neill- whereas some stayed, and others appeared- a young man, a teenage girl, an elderly woman and a young boy that rushed over to O'Neill. The redhead and the teenager hugged briefly, before the two sauntered over to where Jack stood.  
  
" Teal'c," Jack gestured to Teal'c, and then to the girls stood, " This is Mary-Anne and Sophia Bells, and that's their father, Richard Bells, over there." He gestured to a man standing talking to one of the newcomers. " And he's talking to Artemis. They're coming with us to the City of Ares."  
  
Teal'c bobbed his head in acknowledgement, and introduced them to Pippin, briefly explaining that he too, would also be accompanying them- and then the Jaffa sniffed the air suspiciously.  
  
" I believe there are more Lordlings outside O'Neill," he growled, indicating the second tunnel. Sam, who had been examining the four transporters, looked up at this, gripping her rifle unsteadily.  
  
Jack gave a tired sigh.  
  
" Okay, Carter, with me. Teal'c, we'll cover your six." The Colonel turned to face the Aresians. " You guys, stay here, although Artemis, Mary-Anne and Richard are welcome to join us."  
  
He cocked an eyebrow and the three declined; gripping their pistol, rifle and staff weapon respectively, the three-quarters of SG-1 crept stealthily down the side of the tunnel. Jack eyed his hand radio longingly; he had been hoping Daniel, in the least, would be with Teal'c; but it seemed as if the young man was nowhere to be found- and he wanted to see if he could raise Daniel on the radio.  
  
He almost cringed when they emerged from the tunnel, into a dimly lit wooded clearing. There were trees everywhere he looked; and signs that a battle had taken place; arrows- some broken, some embedded in the trees- littered the forest floor, and there was the distinct tangy smell of blood, polluting the air.  
  
" Colonel," Sam called in a low voice; she was bent over some rushes, pulling away what looked like a SGC issue camouflage Macintosh, and staring down in awe at what lay there.  
  
" What?" Jack asked irritably, scanning the tree-line for any signs of the Lordlings.  
  
" Colonel!" the Major straightened, an annoyed expression marring her usually gentle face- cradled in her arms, was a young baby girl. The child's face was bright red, and screwed up in pain; Sam laid a hand against her forehead, and then pulled it sharply away, as if she had been burnt.  
  
" She's burning up," Sam muttered unhappily.  
  
Screwing his face up at the idea, knowing Carter would most probably hate him for it, Jack snapped; " Take her to one of the Aresians, then, Carter. We're here to look for Lordlings, not care after someone's kid."  
  
Jack pretended he didn't see the scowl that Carter sent him, and put down her muttering 'bastard' to her head injury; a concussion could make a person do funny things.  
  
He turned back, gun raised, and nearly jumped when he saw Teal'c, standing right in front of him, nose to nose.  
  
" O'Neill," the Jaffa said in a grave voice.  
  
Jack lost it.  
  
" What now?" he snarled impatiently. " And have you two just forgotten the whole concept of being discreet? If I knew you two would be like this, I would have sent the Lordlings an invite to come and skewer us to little pieces instead."  
  
Teal'c arched an eyebrow superiorly, eloquently expressing what he thought of O'Neill's behaviour in a way that words could just not cover.  
  
" I suggest you take a look at the baby, O'Neill," he said coolly, nodding over to where Sam still stood, cradling the child.  
  
Reluctantly, Jack turned; and then froze.  
  
Hanging around the baby's neck was what looked like dog-tags- the metal tags clinked against one another and…something else. A ring.  
  
" Are th…do they belong to who I think they belong to?" Jack asked, his mouth dry. If they were Daniel's dog-tags and ring, then why the hell weren't they around the young man's neck?  
  
" Yes sir," Carter said softly, unhappily.  
  
" Damn," Jack muttered. He straightened, and faced the two. " Well, at least we know he's somewhere around him; the bad news is that there appears to have been a fight between him and a-" he glanced around him, and swallowed, "- couple of dozen Lordlings and we don't know who won. Keep your heads up kids."  
  
They split into three- Teal'c taking the left, Sam the right, and Jack going straight ahead.  
  
For fifteen minutes, Jack wandered aimlessly, his grip on his zatnikitel tight, his face white with worry and anger.  
  
This was meant to be a simple mission, he bitched inwardly, not some massive prophecy we had to fulfil, or some massive battle we had to fight.  
  
A shaft of golden-green light fell down, highlighting his grizzled hair, even as a bush rustled and a man gave a cry of fear behind him. Jack whirled around, his zatnikitel, and nearly shot the man as he barrelled past the Colonel, his knees buckling. It took him a full ten seconds to recognise him; to see past the bruises, the blood, torn fatigues and the toad-white skin.  
  
His heart plummeted from his throat, to his gut instead.  
  
" Daniel?" It came out as a disbelieving croak, his eyes searching the younger man's face for any sign of recognition. Tears streaked the man's cheeks, washing away layers of dirt, before becoming entangled in a fine russet brown beard- Daniel's beards were as straight as his hair- they weren't thick and curly, like Jack's were.  
  
Daniel raised his head, his red-rimmed eyes confused.  
  
" Sha're?" he finally asked, sinking back onto the ground, " Sha're, you have a beard…"  
  
His eyes rolled into the back of his head, and Daniel fainted before Jack could react.  
  
" Dammit!"  
  
He strode over to where Daniel lay, and snapped into his hand radio;  
  
" Carter, Teal'c, I found him. We're about fifteen yards away from the cave; straight ahead."  
  
He thumbed the 'off' button, slipping the radio back into his pocket, and crouched next to Daniel, pressing two fingers against his neck; Daniel had a weak, erratic pulse, and his lungs rattled when he breathed; a quick peek at his chest revealed several large bruises- broken ribs. His other hand crept up to Daniel's forehead, to smooth away his straggly fringe; instantly, Jack flinched- Daniel's skin was hot- feverishly so.  
  
" Jesus," Jack muttered, " What the hell have you done to yourself Daniel?"  
  
So wrapped up in his worry for Daniel, Jack almost didn't hear the soft, creeping footsteps behind him, or the sound of an arrow being cocked.  
  
Almost.  
  
Casually, Jack lifted his zatnikitel, twisted around, and fired twice; blue energy shot across the clearing, and enveloped a young Lordling, killing him. Scowling disdainfully, Jack fired again, and he disintegrated.  
  
There were more; and he knew it.  
  
" If I were you," he called out softly, maliciously, to where the man's companion hid- he could see the Lordling's feet poking out from underneath the bush- " I'd skedaddle. Right now. Because I've just taken out your entire fleet with a couple of bombs; and don't think that I don't have any more where they came from."  
  
It was a white lie; but it worked- the Lordling shot up, and then turned away, fleeing. Irritably, Jack fired his zat, letting the blue energy brush the young man's boots, fuelling him on.  
  
" Bastard," he muttered underneath his breath, unsure of whom he was referring to; himself or the Lordling.  
  
*  
  
Pain…throbbing, burning, blazing, flaming, smouldering pain…  
  
The world was dark; almost suffocating, and the young man had a strange hunch that he was being carried; he seemed to be floating in the darkness, something cold pressing against his neck now and again, whiting out his thoughts briefly.  
  
The Lordlings must have caught me, he realised bitterly; all was lost- he was going to die, and so was Clara, because he hadn't been able to cure her…  
  
Something tapped his cheek, and he tried to yell; to scream or moan or do anything. Except, he couldn't; he was just an inch away from consciousness; from free will and the ability to speak and, in general, make noises.  
  
Lots and lots and lots of noises.  
  
I'm delirious, the young man realised dimly, and wished he could remember his name.  
  
But then again, he remembered dimly, the poison does that- makes you hallucinate, makes you delirious…  
  
" He's burning up, sir!"  
  
That was nice; at least if he was going to die, then he would die in the comfort of his hallucinatory friends.  
  
" Got that Carter."  
  
That was Jack; the elder man grunted, and for a brief second, the young man sagged alarmingly.  
  
" I can c-"  
  
" No Teal'c," the man retorted- he sounded weary, close to tears in fact- " We need you to watch out for Lordlings."  
  
A gentle hand; soft and slender- Sha're?, the man thought hopefully- tugged at his tee-shirt, and he heard a woman hiss in displeasure- evidently she had caught site of his bruised chest. Another hand pressed against his forehead- against the red, bruised lump there- and he couldn't help it; as red-hot pain flared across his skull and raced down his spine, the young man tried to buck.  
  
It didn't work of course; My body's a latent scream, and I want out, the young man remembered vaguely- it was from a Portuguese book he had read as a student…  
  
" He's got internal bleeding sir," the woman continued miserably. " And possibly a severe concussion, but we won't know that until he wakes up."  
  
The man wished the pain would go away; would diminish- it didn't seem fair that if he was going to die- especially after all he had been put through- that he would die in pain.  
  
Life is very rarely fair, his inner voice told him reproachfully, otherwise it wouldn't be worth living. You have to fight for everything good; it isn't just handed to you.  
  
That, the young man thought, wasn't strictly true; he had stumbled upon the solution to solve the secret of the Stargate by accident; it had been good luck- but he decided it wasn't worth arguing.  
  
He was dying after all.  
  
"…If he wakes up," Jack was saying.  
  
" Sir?"  
  
The inky-black world swayed gently as he was carried, warm sunshine- or what felt like sunshine- heating his icy cold skin, making him feel that bit more alive. Jack would have said that he felt like 'a barely warmed corpse'… O'Neill's voice interrupted his reverie; it sounded strained and unhappy.  
  
" Take a look at his shoulder, Major. Now, either that is one hell of a fucking infection, or Daniel's been poisoned."  
  
Daniel! That was it; his name was Daniel… Daniel Jackson.  
  
His name was Daniel Jackson, and he'd been poisoned, and he was now…dying?  
  
*  
  
Jack staggered back into the cavern, his knees and arms protesting horribly; Daniel was no lightweight. The archaeologist's head lolled back against his chest, Daniel's pale mouth agape, insipid bloody vomit dribbling from one corner, staining his ashen skin. A few minutes ago, he had begun to vomit- albeit weakly; Jackson's stomach had gurgled nauseatingly as he threw up what little food he had eaten, Jack silently praying Daniel didn't choke- he had done some horrible things in his life, but giving mouth-to-mouth to a man who had just vomited ( with the possibility that he would do so again) was just one of those experiences that Jack hadn't- and never wanted to, ever- experienced.  
  
Behind him staggered Carter; she was almost as pale as Daniel, struggling to hold the baby, who was, she had told Jack coldly, in danger of fitting- her fever was that high.  
  
Teal'c, carrying both Jack, and Carter's weapon, lurched behind her, thundering at Pippin;  
  
" Are the Transporters ready?"  
  
On the run back, he had explained breathlessly about the four transporters- they were the 'ordinary' kind, if Pippin was to be believed, and led to the City of Ares. The group of Aresians glanced up at that, and Mary-Anne arched her eyebrow quizzically as she caught sight of Daniel, and then the baby.  
  
" Clara!" she whimpered, and dashed over to where Carter was, taking her from the Major- Sam gave a sigh of relief, and then groaned as a wave of pain crashed over her- she had jarred her broken arm carrying the baby.  
  
" She has a fever," Sam mumbled; Teal'c was physically pulling her towards the Transporters, booming something about the Aresians following them after they had used them. " We can cure it…give Clara to Teal'c, Mary-Anne…"  
  
Teal'c set Sam on one of the platforms, and took Baby Clara from a very confused looking Mary-Anne. Jack was half-dragging the unconscious Daniel onto his platform, cringing when the man moaned in pain.  
  
" She'll be fine," the Jaffa assured Mary-Anne. Pippin was standing by the dais, preparing to press the appropriate gems to send them to the City of Ares.  
  
His face taut with anxiety, Jack's head snapped up, and he cried tiredly;  
  
" Wait a second Pip," Pippin cringed at the nickname, and Jack decided to ignore him, " Let me see if I can wake up Daniel. His legs will be cut off otherwise." The Colonel gestured around him- and sure enough, Daniel's legs trailed off the edge of the stone circle.  
  
Pippin nodded, and stood back, watching them patiently.  
  
Flashing the ex-Chieftain a grateful smile, Jack bent low (his knees creaked painfully, old bruises and his one cracked rib flaring painfully) and tapped Daniel several times on the cheek, reaching into his back pocket for some smelling oils. Uncapping the nearest one (he screwed up his nose at the pungent smell that wafted from it), Jack waved it under Daniel's nose, his brow creased with worry.  
  
Daniel gave a little moan, and stirred, his eyelids fluttering- a semi- conscious Sam smiled half-heartedly.  
  
" Come on Daniel," Jack hissed, " Come on, godamn you…"  
  
As if responding to the insult, Daniel's eyes flickered open, and dilated, dazed blue eyes stared at him.  
  
" Sha're?"  
  
" Delirious; great." Jack pulled Daniel up- the younger man sagged against him, his legs threatening to buckle. " Do ya think you can stand?"  
  
Daniel gave a gargle, his eyes threatening to roll up into the back of his head; Jack slapped him- Daniel's head snapped back, but his eyes snapped open, struggling to focus on the Colonel.  
  
" Never mind," Jack muttered, and then shot Carter and Teal'c a cautious look. " I don't want the Marines hearing about this."  
  
He embraced Daniel, one arm snaking around the man's waist, the other underneath his armpit, hitching the semi-conscious archaeologist up. Daniel's head fell against his shoulder, and Jack could feel the heat from his cheeks- even through the thin material of the tee-shirt.  
  
" Pippin, now!" he snapped at the Aresian- the man darted back to the dais, pressed a combination of gems, and the room began to hum, dust sparkling and twinkling as it danced along the floor…then there was a white flash, a hooking sensation behind his navel, and everything disappeared in a blur of movement.  
  
When the light had cleared, they stood in a small room- the room that they had first left in; Carter was being supported by Teal'c, and the beefy Jaffa was also tenderly carrying Clara as well, a soft expression belying the idea that he was a cold killer. Daniel's legs were buckling- angrily, Jack tightened his grip on Daniel's upper arm, yanking him to his feet- confused eyes swivelled to him, hurt- and he snarled fierily;  
  
" Don't you fucking dare, Jackson. I need you conscious if we're going to activate this weapon." He pointed over to the dais that Father Darner had used in the very beginning; there were small ring-sized slots etched into the surface. Daniel blinked, and gurgled, but he seemed to understand, as he tried to straighten, his bloody arm flopping uselessly at his side.  
  
A sense of forbode washing over him, Jack struck out his hand, yanking off his ring from his middle finger- in the corner of his eye, he could make out Carter and Teal'c dizzily doing the same. At his elbow, Daniel swayed, and weakly pointed at Clara.  
  
" My ring," he managed to croak out, white-hot pain flaring across his chest, head and racing down his spine. Jack nodded tightly.  
  
" Teal'c!" he called urgently, gesturing at Clara; Teal'c, for his credit, understood, and pulled out Daniel's dog-tags, gingerly prying the ring from them and handing it to Daniel, who clutched at it with two hands.  
  
As one, they lurched across the room, to where the dais stood, and staring first at their rings, and the symbols, they staggered to the appropriate spot. Daniel was leaning against a wall for support, looking decidedly nauseous and tired; Jack glanced around him, and realised that they all did; Teal'c was sporting that disgusting blonde beard, and eerily enough, a head of hair; Carter's own hair was matted with blood, but seemed a good inch longer than when Jack had last seen it; and he knew personally from looking at his reflection on the ship, that he sported a thick grey-brown beard. Daniel had a straggly fringe, the beginnings of a moustache and beard; something that the younger man most definitely did not suit.  
  
SG-1, Jack thought with a wry smile, the team that goes through all kinds of shit for mankind.  
  
As one, they bent over their various symbols, pressing their rings against the hole; their eyes flickered up for one moment, and then, as one, they jammed their rings into the key-hole, and twisted.  
  
*  
  
Major Griff of SG-6 stared around him, a frown marring his face- in his mid- forties, he was, he had decided, way too old for this kind of shit.  
  
Especially as this kind of shit involved SG-1.  
  
The planet, as whole, was like the proverbial paradise- white beaches that seemed to stretch on forever; enticing turquoise oceans, and exotic coloured fish that swam and darted between your legs, as well as an endless, clear summer sky, and two fucking beautiful suns. The natives were friendly too, Griff reflected, as he glanced down at the wreath of flowers encircling his neck, sparing the rest of his team a side-glance; his Second- in-Command, Captain Thomas was playing a game with five of the local kids- three boys named Michtel, Andras and Pesa, and two girls named Adalee and Marta (apparently, they were siblings, the children to a local poor woman named Thessily Rodecker). Thomas was losing; but didn't seem to mind too much- he was betting Fifth Avenue chocolate bars, and the delight that spread across the kids faces when they won a bar, was reward enough, he had told his Commanding Officer a few hours earlier.  
  
Lieutenant Ashley, the team's resident scientist ( like Carter, he was more of a soldier than a scientist, much to Griff's relief) was talking to Father Amah Darner about the hieroglyphs, which were supposedly of Pahlavi origin, and Captain Andrew, Ashley's best friend, was tagging along, exchanging tales with the Chieftain's (although Darner was also a priest, he seemed to prefer being referred to as a Chieftain. Which was fine in Griff's book) son, Faras.  
  
And Major Griff was waiting by the Stargate, doing squat all.  
  
Two weeks previously, SG-1 had failed to check in, so Hammond had tried to raise SG-1 via the MALP and their radios; instead of SG-1, the SGC had only managed to receive static, and the image of city. There was evidence, of course, that SG-1 had been there- footprints in the sand, a discarded pair of binoculars (Colonel O'Neill's). Nonetheless, Hammond had been worried, and as SG-3 were laid up in the Infirmary with Carter's and Jackson's flu, he had sent SG-6 to retrieve them. Father Darner had welcomed the team, and when they had explained that they were searching for their 'friends', SG-1, he had happily enlightened them to the fact that SG-1 were now on the other side of the planet, trying to fulfil a thousand-year old prophecy. And when Griff had tried to dial up the Stargate to contact the SGC about this particular piece of news, he had informed the team that if the wormhole was activated by the Aresians- or anyone else on their planet- a poisonous gas would be released, killing all who lived below within a few seconds.  
  
It hadn't been until after the SGC had contacted them, demanding to know why SG-6 were late in reporting back, as well, that Darner had also added that SG-1 were also very possibly fighting for their lives, and being hunted down by a race called the Lordlings- 'waiting Jaffa', Ashley had translated.  
  
Griff glanced down at his watch, his lips quirking into a tight smile as the Stargate began to grate and grind, the chevrons locking into place; Hammond had contacted them on a daily basis, for an update on what was happening, and to send through MRE's and chocolate bars and toys for the children. The wormhole jettisoned out, and a few seconds later, the MALP camera shrieked as it twisted around, focussing on the Major; Griff smiled and waved. A rucksack, heavy with chocolate, toys and food, appeared a few seconds later, followed by a crackly voice in his ear;  
  
" Good afternoon Major," General Hammond spoke softly, sympathetically.  
  
" Afternoon General," Griff replied traditionally, hoping he didn't sound as sour or as bitter as he felt; apparently, the Tollan were in negotiation with the SGC about sending a ship to retrieve them in the event that SG-1 didn't succeed. As of yet, they had been unsuccessful. " How are the negotiations going?"  
  
The General sighed. He sounded tired; weary and unhappy- inwardly, Griff grimaced. Hammond missed SG-1- they all did; it was hell knowing that the team were on the other side of the planet, but also knowing that they could absolutely nothing about it.  
  
" Not very well," he admitted. " The Counsellor of Troy sympathises with our situation, but they feel we're too irresponsible for that kind of technology. The Tok'ra, as always, can't be raised, and the Asgard are fighting the Replicators- the same old shit."  
  
Griff arched an eyebrow at the General's language; usually, Hammond didn't swear.  
  
" Yeah," he agreed with a sigh, glancing behind him at the city- in the bright sunshine, it glimmered and glittered, butterflies and birds dancing and darting in between gold-tipped buildings. " Same-old, same-old. Thomas is playing with the locals- I think he thinks if he tries, he can fit them in his backpack, and no-one will notice; Ashley is still trying to translate the Pahlavian writing on the dome- he thinks he might be able to active those little platforms we saw in there in a few days or so, but he can't be sure. Andrew's tagging along with Ashley, though he tells me he's talking to Faras- Darner's son- in case he can prise anymore information from the boy."  
  
" And you?" Hammond asked gently. Griff smiled sardonically, and tipped his head theatrically, so that his sun-kissed neck was exposed to the two suns.  
  
" Me?" he smugly said, " I'm getting a tan. Same-old, same-old."  
  
There was a muffled chuckle in his ear, and Griff indulged himself with a small, satisfied smile- it was good to hear Hammond laugh. He waited a second, and then asked brightly, praying that Major Davis, or any of the other representatives from the Pentagon weren't in the SGC;  
  
" So, how's life in the SGC, sir?"  
  
Hammond paused before answering; his voice, though strained, was tainted with amusement;  
  
" Major Feretti's wife gave birth yesterday morning, when he was off- world," he began- Griff inwardly winced. The same had happened to Captain Thomas (although, thankfully, Thomas' wife was also a member of the SGC- albeit a civilian one who had what they had labelled a 'desk job'- she wasn't allowed to travel through the Stargate unless it was an emergency) two years earlier. " Luckily, he was recalled, and after he recovered from the ear-bashing he received, Feretti called us to tell us it was a baby boy, and it had been called Charles."  
  
Overhead, an albatross shrieked, soaring over the tree-tops; absently, Griff watched as the some pebbles trembled, skittering over the ground.  
  
" That's nice sir; you'll have to give him mine and SG-6's congratulations when he returns to duty…"  
  
Wait a minute, Griff's eyes widened, trembling and skittering?  
  
His pale blue eyes flickered up to the sky; a splotch of red-orange was slowly growing across the sky, a green-gold beam jettisoning up from the Dome. The ground shook.  
  
" Will do, Major…" the General was saying- although Griff was no longer listening. A frown furrowing his brow, he shot to his feet, scooting away from the boulder he had been sitting on; Thomas and the five children were charily rising, Thomas' eyes fixed on the red-orange patch.  
  
The patch spread across the sky, the ground shaking and rumbling ominously; a second later, an explosion ripped through the sky, a fireball spreading across the sky; the gold-green beam split up into another hundred thin beams- two shot down to the Stargate and the DHD- Major Griff leapt out of the way, a cry of alarm forcing itself past his lips. The beam engulfed the Stargate and the DHD, shimmering and sparking, and in his ear, Griff could hear General Hammond's alarmed voice, demanding an explanation. He watched as the other beams streaked across the sky, and before he even knew what he was doing, Griff, followed shortly by Thomas, began to run towards the City; towards the Dome. He streaked past an astonished looking Faras and Andrew, and stumbled into Lieutenant Ashley; both the Lieutenant and Darner were staring up at the sky in amazement.  
  
A glance at the Stargate revealed that the gold-green shimmer was slowly dying away, a strange black-blue energy beam- like a bruise- seeping into the ground, and Griff asked harshly, ignoring the buzz in his ear;  
  
" Okay, what the hell is going on?"  
  
Ashley pointed above him, at the sky, and spluttered;  
  
" The prophecy! I…they…"  
  
The red-orange fireball faded away, and the trembling diminished; a second later the ground began to shake again- but for an entirely different reason altogether. People- men, women and children- were running from their houses, stampeding down the streets, to the Dome, shrieking and screaming, throwing flower blossoms and marble and chocolate into the air; they were grinning and laughing, and it took Griff a few seconds to work out what they were screaming;  
  
" The Chosen have returned! The Chosen have saved us! Praise be to the Tau'ri!"  
  
A grin spread across his face, and Griff stood back, pressing a finger against his radio. Hammond was still blustering;  
  
" Major? Major! Are you okay? What's going on?"  
  
Unclipping his radio, Griff shook his head helplessly, knowing Hammond wouldn't see it.  
  
" Call off the negotiations," he cried gleefully as flower petals rained down upon him, kissing his cheeks- a little girl that he didn't know the name of, flung herself around his middle, laughing and crying at the same time. He held out the radio so Hammond could hear the people crying.  
  
" That, sir, is the sound of music; that is the sound of SG-1 returning and fulfilling that godamn prophecy!"  
  
Everything was a little crazy after that; Griff was swept up into a Conga dance being led by Thomas and the five Rodecker children, but he could very clearly hear the whoops of joy from the SGC personnel, and Hammonds shouts of joy, even in the din of the Aresians.  
  
A few seconds later, Griff tore himself from the conga line, and darted over to the Dome, before anymore children hugged him, or anymore women kissed him, slipping into the side entrance. He stopped in his tracks at who he saw there; SG-1- their faces dirty, streaked with bruises and blood- and in the men's cases, their chins speckled with the beginnings of a beard- stood, swaying uncertainly. Behind them flashed the Transport rings, Aresians that Griff had not yet met appearing; one of them- a redheaded girl- darted over to Teal'c, and pried a baby girl from his massive arms. Then, without warning, Doctor Jackson's eyes rolled up into the back of his head, his legs buckled, and he crumpled to the ground; Major Samantha Carter, O'Neill and Teal'c followed a few seconds later, their faces ashen and gaunt. Time seemed to freeze as Griff lifted his hand radio again, ignoring the cries of celebration outside; his feet were moving too slowly as he ran across the room, crashing to his knees next to Jackson and Carter.  
  
" General Hammond?" he barked into his radio, without even thinking, " I've found SG-1. You better send a Med team, and Doctor Fraiser, pronto. I don't think they'll make the trip back if you don't."  
  
*  
  
The SGC: 0215  
  
  
  
They found my boys- and my girl- today; they were half-dead (three-quarters in Doctor Jackson and Major Carter's case) and unconscious, but they still found them. I don't know whether I should be whooping for joy, shouting with anger, or breaking out the tissues; to be honest, Doctor Fraiser still isn't sure whether Doctor Jackson or Major Carter will survive the night, and Colonel O'Neill and Teal'c are yet to awaken. I've sent SG-6 back to their respective homes- they'll be put up for a housing recommendation for their part in SG-1's retrieval, and now I'm sitting here, waiting for Janet Fraiser to return from surgery, with a full report on SG-1's condition. I wonder if I should call the Tok'ra- not to let them use SG-1 as hosts- but Jacob deserves to know whether his daughter will live or die.  
  
…No. I won't; I'll let the Personnel have this night at least- last time I saw them, they were breaking out the alcohol, and were being relieved by SG- 11. Good Lord! That better not have been a firecracker…it was... Sergeant Davis- and God knows how he snuck one into a Base this security-conscious – had bought in a 'Catherine wheel'. There is now a black scorch mark marring the ceiling of the Embarkation Room, that Davis, no matter hung-over, shall be painting over tomorrow- sorry, today- at 0900.  
  
I can't believe SG-1 pulled it off again; I thought I had lost them for good this time; and so, from the reactions of the SGC this afternoon, had the rest of the SGC.  
  
Ah, here's Doctor Fraiser now; you listen carefully to me, SG-1. You had better live, you hear? You shall live, even if I have to demote you to Airmen, and limit your coffee allowance (yes Doctor Jackson, I do know how much of SGC funding goes into coffee beans for your department) or visitation to other planets for personal pleasure. Don't you dare die…  
  
From the Personal Journal of Major-General George Hammond, SGC, 0215  
  
George Hammond glanced up sharply as Janet Fraiser, her pale face lined with exhaustion, still wearing the surgery gloves- stained with blood, much to Hammond's dismay.  
  
His pale, tired blue-grey eyes tracked the petite woman as she half- staggered across the room, and without waiting for an invitation, pulled up a leather chair, and sunk into it, pushing a lock of red-brown hair out of her eyes.  
  
" I hope you have a glass of brandy under there," she nodded at his half- open desk drawer, and smiling paternally, George pulled the drawer open, and brandished two glasses and a bottle of brandy, the amber liquid sparkling in the fluorescent lighting. Trepidation making his heart hammer in the base of his throat, George poured Janet, and then himself, a glass of brandy. Without hesitation, Janet gripped the glass, her hand trembling, and then drunk the whole lot. Her doe brown eyes slightly dazed, she licked her lower lip, then said in a firm voice;  
  
" I wanted to be drunk- or half-drunk when I told you this," she began shakily- and Hammond couldn't help but notice her arms were beginning to shake now- " They're going to live sir."  
  
Even the airmen, posted two halls away heard the General's whoop of joy; Hammond grinned as Janet allowed herself a small smile, slamming their medical records onto his desk.  
  
" Well done, Major," he smiled broadly, his eyes creasing with the smile.  
  
"Thank you sir," Janet smiled placidly, and then opened the nearest file- Doctor Daniel Jackson's- and continued. " As I said, they will live; they just won't wake up for quite a while; I've heavily sedated Colonel O'Neill, Doctor Jackson and Major Carter, to give their bodies a chance to recover, and Teal'c has apparently placed himself in a very deep state of Kel'No'Reem." She moved her finger down Daniel's file, until it rested on a long list. " Doctor Jackson had a severe concussion, two broken ribs, and another severely bruised rib, minor lacerations down his back, chest and face- there will no scarring- and another wound in his right shoulder that had been infected." She took a deep breath. " His blood-works revealed that he had been poisoned- nothing complicated, thankfully- although we had to operate-" She gestured at her bloody gloves, "- when he crashed. As I said, he'll live; but don't be alarmed by the number of machines and wires surrounding him- its' for his health." She gave a crooked smile. " I could explain to you what machines they were, but, with all respect sir, I don't think you'd understand."  
  
Hammond smiled broadly, and took a sip from his brandy; it was expensive stuff, but then again, it wasn't an ordinary occasion- SG-1 had returned to him.  
  
" No offence taken," he nodded, indicating she should continue. Janet moved onto the next file; Major Samantha Carter.  
  
" Sam, like Daniel, had a rather severe concussion- from what little we were able to get from the Aresians that came through- Amba and a boy named Jayama- the gate with SG-6, she had plummeted from a cliff, and onto Colonel O'Neill's vessel." Both of the officers winced, " I also discovered some minor burns across her back, lower chest, legs and hands. She's broken two bones in her right arm; and like Doctor Jackson, she has some mild lacerations across her shoulder and arms." Janet swiftly moved onto the neighbouring file; a thick wad of papers belonging to Colonel O'Neill; " Colonel O'Neill is actually quite healthy in comparison to Daniel and Sam; he has one cracked rib- the others are severely bruised- several lacerations across his chest, and the beginnings of a heavy cold. Now Teal'c," she smiled wryly, pulling out his file- paper thin, and highly classified, " Has an arrow wound to the leg, a few bruises, and that's pretty much it. We found a few traces of a hallucinogenic drug in his blood, but his symbiote seems to be handling that." She laced her fingers together, and glanced at her watch; it read 0309- she had been talking for nearly an hour. " All in all, they were exhausted- so we've sedated them, and it's just a case of seeing who'll wake up first, sir." She yawned, her eyes flickering tiredly. " My bet's on Teal'c, sir."  
  
George chuckled, and then reached into his desk, pulling out a pair of silver keys.  
  
" Thank-you very much Doctor," he placed the keys on his desk- Janet eyed them with trepidation. " SG-1 were extremely lucky; they could have died." He gestured to the set of keys, and then continued; " These are a set of keys to a VIP suite- the one we usually reserve for the President and his Joint Chiefs, when they visit." His eyes twinkled with mirth. " Now, I want you to take these keys, and go and rest; don't worry about SG-1- as you said, they're perfectly fine, and if anything happens, we have Doctor Warner on call. I'll have an airman take you home tomorrow- or bring Cassandra here; whatever you prefer."  
  
Janet grinned, and grabbed the keys, a soft 'thank-you sir;' slipping from her lips, and then marched- unsteadily- from General Hammond's office. He waited a moment, and then grinned leisurely.  
  
" Well done," he praised a photograph of SG-1 receiving an award from the President for saving the world over three years ago, " Well fucking done. You lived."  
  
*  
  
She rose up from unconsciousness slowly, dimly aware of the machines beeping in the background, and the sound of voices softly conversing; feeling strangely light-headed, and her broken arm oddly numb, Samantha Carter forced drowsy eyes to open. Jack O'Neill, dressed in Infirmary pyjamas, a hospital gown drawn tightly around his waist, an IV attached to his arm- saline-looking liquid dripping from a bag- was sitting cross- legged to her left, on an Infirmary cot. He looked drowsy, but despite this, he was half-heartedly playing a game of chess with Teal'c; he was losing- as Janet took his vitals.  
  
" Ah, patient number three," she called suddenly, picking up her clipboard, stalking across the Infirmary, her heels clicking noisily. Sam watched her through shuttered eyes, feeling wonderfully drowsy.  
  
" Number three?" she asked sleepily, blinking as Janet lifted her limp left wrist, feeling for a pulse; she glanced at the machine at the same time, and jotted down a number. She reached into her back pocket suddenly, and Sam steadied herself, gritting her teeth; sure enough, a few seconds later a penlight was shone in her eyes. " Ouch. Number three?"  
  
" Sorry," Janet mumbled- although the twinkle in her eyes belied that notion- " Your eyes must be photosensitive." She turned, so that Sam had a clear view of Jack and Teal'c. " Teal'c awoke yesterday morning, and Colonel O'Neill awoke a few hours ago. You're the third one to wake; we're still waiting for your friend Doctor Jackson to wake up and join the party." She gestured to Sam's right, and the Major twisted uncomfortably.  
  
Lying, unconscious, and half-hidden underneath wires, bandages and machines, was Daniel, almost as white as the sheets. Bruises- most of them yellow- marred his ashen skin, and a breath-mask covered his face. She felt her face twist into an expression of alarm; immediately, Janet said;  
  
" It's okay. He'll live- he was sedated, like the rest of you were. He's just taking a long time to wake up."  
  
There was an awkward silence, and Janet suddenly said;  
  
" Happy New Year, by the way."  
  
Sam- and this time, Jack as well- arched an eloquent eyebrow.  
  
" It's New Year's Day?"  
  
" Well, no," the petite doctor admitted, embarrassed, " It's actually January the 10th, but seeing as you guys were half-way across the Universe and fighting for your lives on New Year's Day, I figured you would have forgotten about it."  
  
Sam smiled, and was about to say something, when her chest tightened, and she sneezed, unexpectedly; three times in succession. Janet looked positively smug.  
  
" I thought so," she said triumphantly, as if this explained everything, " SG-1 seemed to have caught the Aresian version of a cold. Now all I have to do is wait for Doctor Jackson to confirm this theory."  
  
She moved across the room, to where some hapless marine sat, his foot cast in plaster, a grimace crossing his face. Jack was watching smugly, Teal'c not seeming to care; Sam grinned.  
  
She was alive; they were alive, and if her last conscious memory was correct, they had saved Ares.  
  
*  
  
Epilogue:  
  
" When you fall asleep, before the end of the day/ You start to worry  
  
Like when the taxi comes to take you away/ when you're in no hurry  
  
But when your hair turns white/ and the stars shine so bright, like oh-oh- oh  
  
At least…it's not the end of the world."  
  
Taken from the Super-Furry Animals, 'It's not the end of the world'.  
  
  
  
" Respiratory tract infection," Janet Fraiser said suddenly, a few scant seconds before she sneezed, violently.  
  
Daniel Jackson looked up from the Senet Game he was playing with Sam, and absently said, " Bless you," as she blew her nose miserably. SG-1 and Janet Fraiser lay- or sat as the case was- in the Isolation Unit, a tray of food and medicine sitting at the end of each bed. Janet had been wrong when she had assumed that SG-1 were coming down with mere colds; they had, in fact, caught the Aresian version of influenza- highly contagious, but not life- threatening. General Hammond had decided, that after the outbreak the SGC had suffered as a result from broken air conditioning, he would isolate the cause, and any that had come into contact; in other words, SG-1 and Janet were to be kept in Isolation until the influenza cleared up.  
  
In the corner were Jack, Teal'c and Jacob Carter- in the end, Hammond had contacted him, and he had immediately come to visit with a few Tok'ra representatives- watching an old episode of Star Trek that involved a generator of some kind and ugly aliens; O'Neill glanced up irritably, one eyebrow arched, and said;  
  
" 'Scuse me?"  
  
" Respiratory tract infection," Janet said again, her nose itching, " Influenza. The flu. What we have."  
  
The room was lined with flower blossoms and awards- not from the President, but from the Aresians. As Jack O'Neill had complained about bitterly on the second day of Isolation, the President didn't give a damn if SG-1 saved a world, unless it was Earth. Apparently, according to Father Darner (and Jack had had to be restrained to stop himself from throttling the man for putting a knife to Daniel's throat) the day that they had returned to the City of Ares, had been declared as the Tau'ri Day, a national holiday for all Aresians, and paintings and statues were being made in their honour.  
  
" We were already aware of what we had, Doctor Fraiser," Teal'c boomed from across the room; technically, he didn't have the 'flu- but Jack had threatened him with a fishing trip, so reluctantly, the Jaffa had agreed to stay to keep SG-1 company.  
  
Janet sighed.  
  
" I know Teal'c," she muttered, " It's just…never mind."  
  
In the corner, the telephone began to vibrate, then ring- Jack, Sam and Daniel winced simultaneously at the sharp noise, and Janet snatched it up from its' hinges, and stuffily said;  
  
" Yes?"  
  
It was Cassandra; the General had put her through.  
  
" Hi Cassandra," Janet continued- Sam waggled her fingers at the telephone, as if Cassandra were actually by the phone. " Sam says 'hi'." The Major lifted her thumbs into a 'thumbs-up' and smiled appreciatively.  
  
" Yeah. Uh-huh." There was a long pause. " Absolutely not. No. I don't care how long I might be here- no, don't you 'but Mom' me…" Jacob cringed in the corner, aiming an impish grin at his daughter. " Are you positive? Well, if you're sure…yes sweetie. I love you too. I'll them that…'bye." Janet replaced the telephone, and scowled.  
  
" Well," she said after a while, " there went my home."  
  
Jack and Daniel grinned at each other; Teal'c arched an eyebrow- but it was Sam that actually spoke.  
  
" What do you mean? Cassandra's a lovely girl." Jack's grin widened, and Daniel averted his eyes to the floor, as Janet spun around and held up one finger.  
  
" Correction," she said firmly, " Cassandra was a lovely girl. I'm hoping she will be again, when all that hormonal angst has diminished." She looked at the trays, obviously looking for a distraction, and suddenly said, " Now, who's up for some medicine?"  
  
Jack and Sam groaned simultaneously- Daniel merely looked puzzled.  
  
" What's the medicine?" the archaeologist asked a little suspiciously, his voice raw and breathy- he was still trying to adjust to breathing with broken ribs, and occasionally, his fingers would fly to his forehead, feeling the bumpy ridge of stitching.  
  
Daniel had actually awoken the day after Sam, when the Tok'ra had arrived; Sam had explained that when on Ares, she had had some of Jolinar's memories- it had turned out the Tok'ra had assassinated Ares, and had helped the Aresians build the Transport system, underground and underwater cities, as well as the weapon and rings- but when it had actually come to the crunch, they had skedaddled, leaving the Aresians in the murderous hands of Ares' Lordlings. Jacob had apparently persuaded Anise, Aldwin and a few other Tok'ra to help clear up the after-mass of SG-1's 'mess'- which entailed rebuilding entire villages, and providing medicine, food, and temporary homes on the Tok'ra home-world- much to the Tok'ra's annoyance.  
  
" Robitussin," Janet answered suddenly, drawing Daniel from his reverie- Jack and Sam groaned once more, and she glared at them.  
  
" What's wrong with that?" Daniel asked innocently.  
  
" You're about to find out," Jack promised as Janet advanced, a plastic spoon prepared, dark, cloying liquid dripping from it. Jack, as usual, was right; the medicine was strong and bitter, burning the back of his throat; and with a strong Jaffa smiling smugly and pinching his nose, Daniel had no other choice but to swallow or suffocate.  
  
Teal'c did the same to Jack and Sam- Janet took hers' without a word, wearing a cat-like grin.  
  
There was a long pause, in which Jacob had turned back to watch Star Trek, his eyes glowing now and again, as he silently conversed with Selmak, the elderly symbiote that he was host to.  
  
And then;  
  
" You know, we never made any New Year Resolutions," Sam said brightly.  
  
Daniel nodded, and moved one of the Senet game pieces.  
  
" You're right…" he twisted to face Jack, " So, Jack, as our Commanding Officer, you can go first. What's your New Year Resolution?"  
  
Jack screwed up his face.  
  
" Easy-" and he patted Teal'c on the back at this- "- its' to take Teal'c fishing at least once this year."  
  
Teal'c, unseen by O'Neill, made an unhappy face, his cartouche creasing in two.  
  
" Daniel?" Sam asked with a wide smile.  
  
Like Jack, Daniel made a face.  
  
" To stop dying," he sighed dramatically, " It's just lost its'…kick. You?"  
  
" To never, ever plunge from a cliff like that again," she replied softly. They turned to Teal'c.  
  
" Teal'c?"  
  
Teal'c was watching Star Trek, but stopped, and turned to smile maliciously at O'Neill.  
  
" To take O'Neill to see the Star Wars trilogy," he said loudly, " At least three times."  
  
Jack actually shuddered; and despite his broken ribs, and his 'flu, Daniel grinned. It didn't matter that they would never be able to keep the Resolutions; that they'd been put through Hell, and would be put through it again.  
  
What mattered was that they were still alive to tell the tale; that they had saved a civilisation and then some.  
  
The End (thank god). 


End file.
